


When The Hour Is Nigh

by 30shayds



Category: One Direction
Genre: AU, Drama, First Time Blow Jobs, Innocence, Love, M/M, Poor Harry, Rich Louis, Set in a fictional city in a fictional country, Set in modern times but people act like they're in Old England or something, free form, i don't know what i'm doing to be honest, i think i know now what i'm doing, just go with it, niam-side pairing, very slow burn, zouis-side pairing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2014-08-29
Packaged: 2017-12-29 22:56:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 35,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30shayds/pseuds/30shayds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is one of the richest and most eligible bachelor in glorious Carlton City. He takes pity on Harry and brings him home. Harry hasn't had anything for a long time and is grateful that Louis took him in. Maybe Harry has finally found his new home? And maybe Louis finally found something in Harry he didn't even know he was looking for.</p><p>*PROBABLY NOT GONNA FINISH THIS* Sigh. Sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I am horrible at updating.

Louis walked out of the theater laughing with a group of his high-society friends. Well, maybe "friends" wasn't the accurate word to use. These are just some people he would spend some time with depending on the activity he wanted to pursue, in this instance, watching a touring stage performance of A Midsummer Night's Dream in the posh Carlton City Theater. When he's feeling like he's into playing a good round of polo, this bunch would not be his companions at all.

It was mid-November and the air is painfully cold. When the wind blows, it was like a thousand needles pricking through your bare skin. Louis had just pulled on his gloves, peering up and down the street, looking for the black Chrysler he had gotten out of on that same spot some four hours earlier. The men and women he was with were chatting now about some new production showing next month--A Christmas Carol.

"Oh, surely we must see it!" And instantly, thin fingers covered in white leather gloves were holding onto his arm. He turned to the beautiful blonde woman whose made it her mission to stay by his side the entire night. Her already-blushed cheeks were pinked even more by the cold weather; her lips perfectly red from the long-lasting lipstick she wore. Louis instantly had a vision of her kneeling in front of him, his manhood inside such lovely mouth.

He smiled at her innocently, no trace of the dirty thoughts clouding his mind visible. "Of course, we must. I should think it a crime not to."

The woman's eyes brightened, like Louis' approval of her suggestion was the greatest compliment she's ever received in her life. Unlikely, he thought, since this woman was  heiress to a chain of luxury hotels all over the world; people have groveled at her feet and spoke the most beautiful words to gain her attention. But then again, Louis is not just another person.

From a distance, he saw his car making way to where his group stood waiting for their own chauffered vehicles to take them out of the cold. Louis gently peeled himself away from the woman and inched towards the curb. Suddenly, he felt a body flung itself on him. If he wasn't working out regularly, he would've fallen on the ground at the sudden impact. He heard a chorus of outraged gasps before he smelled utter foulness.

Louis turned to the man who already had his practically lifeless arms clinging desperately on him and instinctively steadied him on his feet. He was a few inches taller than him but rather light, and filthy--extremely filthy. His tangled hair caked in mud, his skin darkened by dirt, he smelled absolutely rancid, but his eyes glistened against the light from the nearest lamppost. They were a beautiful shade of green.

"Please, kind sir," the man whispered, his voice rough and tired.

"Oh my goodness! Won't somebody get this thing away from Louis?" One of the other women in his group exclaimed from somewhere behind him.

"Guards!" He heard one of the men call out. Immediately, the hobo (really, there's no more appropriate term for him) was lifted off of his body. He stood silently as two guards from the theater pulled the man roughly away.

"Oh Louis, look at what he's done to your coat," the blonde woman from earlier complained. She didn't touch him though, afraid that the dirt would rub off on her own pristine clothing.

"I-it's quite alright, really," he managed to say, sparing her a glance. But he immediately returned to the hobo, who has now a good couple of arms length away from him, still being roughly dragged by the guards to distance him from their contingent.

It was pitiful how the hobo wasn't even putting up a fight; he simply allowed the hands on his body to move him to wherever. He lifted his head suddenly and caught Louis' eyes. Something tugged in Louis' heartstrings then at the sight of such lovely green eyes drowning in tears, ready to spill any moment now.

"Wait!" Silence fell among them and the guards stopped. "Wait," Louis said again as he walked towards the hobo. "A-are you okay?" he asked him gently.

"I--" the other began but never got to continue, as he unceremoniously fainted and his body fell upon Louis again. Gasps echoed all around once more. The guards quickly grabbed the hobo's body and forcefully pulled him off of Louis.

"I-it's alright. Careful now," he told the guards.

"Master Louis."

Louis turned to the voice. "Paul, thank god! Come help me put this man in the car." 

The chauffer, some ten years older than Louis and who doubled as a bodyguard, immediately made way to where his employer stood, without question.

"Louis! Are you mad?" said one of the men in his group, who obviously found Louis' orders extremely scandalous. "You won't be able to take the stench out of the leather seats."

Louis chuckled. "It's fine, Henry. I can always buy a new car, can't I?"

The others, thankfully, laughed at his quip.

"But where are you taking him?" asked one of the women.

"He's burning up," Louis began as he went back to the group, watching as Paul and the guards carefully laid him down on the backseat. "The poor thing must have a horrid fever. It might be best to bring him to the hospital rather than leave him on the streets."

"You truly are a good man, Mr. Tomlinson," said one of the men.

Louis laughed. "I try, Mr. Lucas."

Once he's settled on the passenger seat, Paul asked, "To Carlton General, sir?"

Louis turned to the limp body sprawled on his backseat. Underneath all that filth, he can clearly see something beautiful, something innocent. It was inexplicable, that sense of responsibility; that feeling that he can't simply discard this person, that he must take care of him. Looking back to his chauffer, he decided, "no, Paul, let's bring him home and call Dr. Cowell instead."

Paul nodded. "Very good, sir."

\---

"Master Louis, what on earth--?"

"Alfred, please. Help us bring this man to one of the guest rooms."

Quickly, Alfred took Louis' place in holding the still unconscious man. His face contorted at the smell but said nothing. He and Paul steadily brought him up the steps of the Manor's entrance. Alfred was old, somewhere in his sixties, but he was still quite strong and healthy, so carrying a young man up the stairs wasn't all too tedious for him.

Louis pulled wide open the door to allow them to bring in the stranger.

One of the maids came into the foyer just then. "Good evening, Mas--" she chirped, but was cut off at the sight before her.

"Hi Eleanor," Louis greeted warmly. He considers her one of the few he dare call a friend. In fact, she's more of a sister than anything else. Well, sort of, but not really. They grew up together, after all. He'd told her plenty of times not to call him Master, but she still did; but only when her father was around.

"Child, tell Mrs. Cole to meet us at the guestroom in the east wing. Then you proceed there as well to run a bath for this fellow." 

Eleanor stared at the filthy thing being dragged into the Manor, looking quite confused at the situation.

"Eleanor!" Alfred exclaimed.

She snapped out of her reverie and turned to the old man.

"Did you hear what I said? Mrs. Cole. To the east wing. Now!"

"Y-yes, father." And she quickly pattered away.

Louis followed behind Alfred and Paul as they made way to the east wing. "Uh, shall I call Dr. Cowell?" he asked.

"I doubt you know his number, Master Louis."

Louis rolled his eyes. Alfred had a point. Boy, for a butler, this one sure is sassy. 

Once they got to the guestroom, Mrs. Cole and four maids, including Eleanor, were already waiting for them. "Oh my goodness! What happened to him?" asked Mrs. Cole as soon as she saw them. 

"He fainted," Louis said simply.

"El, make a phonecall to Dr. Cowell and tell him he is needed right away." Alfred ordered.

Eleanor nodded and hastily left the room.

They brought the man straight to the bathroom where it was already misty from the hot water running in the tub.

"Do you need my help, Mrs. Cole?" Paul asked.

She nodded. "Yes, dear. We won't be able to carry this young man in and out the tub by ourselves. What in the world did you do, Master Louis?"

He looked at her, indignant. "What? What makes you think I did anything?"

"Well, why would you bring this man here if you didn't do anything to him?"

"I did nothing to him!" Louis emphasized, slightly affronted at being accused, crossing his arms for full effect.

She sighed. "I didn't mean to offend, Master Louis. I was merely inquiring."

Louis huffed. "He is sick. I felt sorry for him."

Mrs. Cole nodded solemnly. "Of course. Now, please wait outside. It might take awhile to get him cleaned." Her nose scrunched as she said that last part.

Louis watched as the door to the bathroom closed in front of him.

"Come now, Master Louis. You should probably take a bath yourself."

He turned to Alfred and nodded, quietly going to his own bedroom.

After a quick shower, he exited his own bathroom and was greeted by Eleanor sitting on the edge of his bed, flipping through the channels on his television.

"So, where'd you find him?" she asked, not really bothering to look away from the screen.

"He kind of bumped into me outside the theater," he explained as he pulled out a pair of boxer shorts from one of the drawers, putting it on carefully so as not to make the towel unravel from his waist. "He looked quite sick."

"He _is_ sick! He's burning up. And, boy, is he filthy. He's gross! I feel dirty breathing the same air as him."

Louis laughed. For a maid, Eleanor can sure be a snob at times.

"He's cute though," she added.

His eyebrows shot up. "Cute?"

She turned to him and flashed an obnoxious grin. "Very cute! Once he's clean, that is."

"Oh, they've finished with him, then?"

She nodded. "He still hasn't woken up though. He's laying on the bed. I just opened the door for Dr. Cowell some minutes ago."

"Well, come on, then," he said as he was pulling a cotton shirt down his torso. "Let's go see what's wrong with him."

\---

The room was dim when Louis and Eleanor entered the open door, the only light coming from the lamp on the desk beside the bed. Alfred was standing on one side of the bed, his back to the door and covering the face of the man on the bed. Dr. Cowell was hunched over on the other side, stethoscope in his ear, with the other end prodding on the chest of his patient. The older men turned to them as came closer to the bed.

"Good evening, Master Louis," Dr. Cowell greeted as he straightened his back.

"Good evening, Dr. Cowell. Thank you for coming on such short notice."

"Of course, sir."

"Will he be alright?" At this point, he was already beside Alfred and finally saw the man's face, which slightly surprised him. This was no man after all. This was a boy. He was, by all means, bigger than Louis in height, but his clean face, in the middle of peaceful slumber, is undoubtedly that of a boy's.

Dr. Cowell nodded. "His fever is very high, but it's nothing to worry about for now. I've called on my assistant to bring an IV over, so we can administer it to this young man here."

Louis smiled and thanked him. He turned back to the sleeping boy on the bed. He knew it; he knew there was something lovely underneath all that grime. The smooth white skin, the full red lips, the naturally curly hair. This boy was breathtaking. Louis longed to see those green eyes again, though. He hoped that the next time he does, they would be brighter and less lonely.

\---

Harry woke up to a weird feeling--he was comfortable. He could barely remember the last time he had woken up comfortable, so he was baffled at the feel of something soft underneath him. When he dared open his eyes, he found himself in a strange place--a bedroom. He had gotten so used to waking up to the angry glare of the sun's rays that not being assaulted by it seemed confusing to him.

He didn't want to move for fear that he might be dreaming and stirring about will wake him up to the reality he's known for some couple of years now. If this was a dream, it was a very good dream.

He scanned his eyes without moving his head. As far as he could make out, the dimness was caused by heavy curtains that were pulled in close. There was a large stuffed chair on one corner, with a table and a lamp next to it. Right in front of him, on the wall at the foot of the bed, was a flat screen TV and a fireplace at the rectangular peg underneath it. When he looked up, he saw hundreds of crystals hovering over him.

"Oh, you're awake," he heard someone say. It was a girl's voice.

He turned to where the sound came and saw a slender girl with long brown curly hair walking closer to him.

"Hello," she greeted warmly, bending over him slightly. "How are you feeling?"

"I--" he stopped, surprised at how hoarse he sounded.

"You've been asleep for many hours now. Your throat must be really dry. Here," she said, grabbing a glass of water from the table beside his bed. "Sit up and drink a little."

Harry pushed himself up, but immediately fell back groaning as a stinging pain hit him in his right hand.

"Oh dear! Careful now," she said with concern. "Dr. Cowell hooked an IV on you because you were completely passed out. We didn't know when you were going to wake up."

She instructed Harry to carefully lift his head up a little as she tilted the rim of the glass to his lips and let him drink. He gulped the water greedily. He felt like he'd been on the desert for the longest time. When he emptied the glass, he let his head fall back on the pillow.

"W-where am I?" he managed to ask.

"You're at Tomlinson Manor. Do you not remember what happened?"

He shook his head.

"You were very sick. Louis found you and brought you here."

"L-louis...?"

She nodded. "He's the master of this house. What is your name, then?"

"Ha-harry."

"It's very nice to meet you, Harry. I'm Eleanor. I'm sure you're very hungry. I'll have someone bring up some food here for you. Don't go moving about too much, you hear? I'll call Dr. Cowell and tell him you've woken up."

Harry watched her walk to the other side of the room. He panicked a little when he thought that she was going to pull the curtains open, but she didn't. Instead, she picked up something from the study table and walked back to him.

"Here you go, Harry. You can watch TV while you wait for your food."

As soon as he took the remote control from her, she was already leaving the room.

He didn't notice it before but when he looked at the remote control on his hand again, he saw white skin wrapped around the device. His own skin--clean and white. He brought his hand closer to his eyes just to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. And then he smelled a hint of something fruity on his skin. It smelled so good that he couldn't stop himself from running his nose against his arm.

He was clean. And he smelled like fruits. 

He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or to cry, because he hadn't felt this good for a long time now. And he had... Louis... Eleanor said his name was Louis... He had Louis to thank for this.

\---

Some hours later, he was introduced to an old man named Albert, the bulter; who in turn introduced him to Dr. Cowell. The doctor checked his temperature, heart beat, and blood pressure, before declaring that the IV was no longer needed. Dr. Cowell told him to drink plenty of fluids and not to strain himself too much. He nodded. But then he watched as Dr. Cowell spoke to Albert, giving him more instructions.

Some minutes after both men left the room, Eleanor entered again, a warm smile on her face.

"So, I heard you're getting better."

Harry smiled shyly. "I suppose so. I feel better, if that's anything to get by."

She nodded. "That's good. You should keep to that and pretty soon you can go outside!"

He couldn't help it when his face fell. He dipped his head to try and hide his sadness. He didn't want to leave; he had no place to go.

"Oh no, Harry," Eleanor said, obviously catching the sudden change in his demeanor. She sat on the bed, next to him, before she continued. "I didn't mean for you to go and leave. I just meant that you should go and walk about outside. It's a big estate, you know. There are fields and gardens here. There's a lake too! And you can even ride one of the horses. Would you like that?"

He lifted his head a little to look at her from underneath his lashes, the corner of his lips curved up to a timid smile. "I don't know how."

Eleanor grinned wide. "Niall will teach you! He takes care of the horses and he's very good with them. My favorite is Taylor; she's nice and gentle. I bet you'll like her too."

He's only ever seen a real live horse once in his life, during the city's founder's day parade some years ago. That was the last time the parade had horses, though. Every year he would wait patiently to see horses at the parade, but there was never one again. There were only motorcades and floats and dancers. No horses. The prospect of seeing one again made him excited, and even more so at the idea that he could actually mount one.

But he had to ask, "M-maybe Louis might get angry if I ride one of his horses?"

"What? Louis?" she exclaimed, as if it was the most ridiculous thing in the world to say. "Of course not! He lets _me_ ride his horses; and I'm the maid."

"But I'm--"

"A guest, Harry. You are a guest in this house." There was a firmness in the way Eleanor said it. Like it was imperative for him to understand.

And Harry couldn't help but blush.

He wanted to ask her where Louis was and if he was ever going to meet him, but she was already standing up and telling him that she had a lot of things to do before dinner, so she had to leave. He could only nod and watch her leave him again to his lonesome, with only the television keeping him company.

\---

The next day, he was certain he was feeling much stronger and healthier. For one, he was able to go to the bathroom without wobbling or clutching at the nearest furniture to save him from falling flat on his face. He even went to the windows and pulled the curtains apart himself. It was the first time he saw what was on the other side, and what he saw then took his breath away.

Right below him was a large lawn with scattered flower beds; there were also benches and fountains strategically placed on the expanse. Beyond that was a stretch of green grass that ended with what he figured was the lake that Eleanor mentioned. The autumn clouds covered the sun a bit, but they didn't make the scenery any less beautiful.

He turned to the wall clock above the doorway to the bathroom. It was only fifteen minutes past seven. He wasn't sure if this was too early for people in the Manor to be awake, but his stomach was already growling and didn't think he could wait any longer for Eleanor to come to his room. So, he braved to open his door and find his way to the kitchens.

The Manor was big, he figured as much. But he didn't realize that it would be like a maze. There was some sort of room at every turn--one with a large screen and cushioned chairs that had cupholders on it, one with five televisions with five different gaming consoles and more cushioned chairs that had cupholders on it, one with shelves upon shelves of books and some more cushioned chairs that had cupholders on it--until finally he got to a large staircase.

The ground floor was just as confusing of a maze as the one he just got out from. The doorways brought him from one room to the next that was oddly similar to each other (all of them had sofas and coffee tables and regular tables and chairs). The only thing he noticed that made a difference in each room was that one had a television, the other a piano, and the other a fireplace. He got a bit more confident when he found the dining hall; this meant that he was getting closer to the kitchen.

It was a busy kitchen, he realized as soon as he entered it. He stood at the entrance for awhile, not sure who to address, or if he should even address anyone at all since he might be interrupting them.

"Can I help you, child?"

He turned to a shapely woman, whose brown hair with streaks of gray was tied neatly to a bun. "I was just--" Harry wanted food but he felt shy asking a stranger. He made a quick scan of the room to see if maybe Eleanor was there, but before he could get from one side of the room to the other, he was interrupted by the woman in front of him.

"Master Harry, I didn't realize it was you. You're looking much better than the last time I saw you."

Harry was bewildered for two reasons: one, this woman just called him "master" which will never make sense in any universe; two, while he has absolutely no idea who this woman could be, she seems to know him quite well.

She laughed. "You won't remember me, being that you were completely unconscious when we met. They call me Mrs. Cole around here, young one. You may do the same."

He nodded.

"Now don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're feeling much better today, but you can't be in here. This is a busy place and certainly not for a house guest such as yourself."

"'m sorry," Harry mumbled.

Mrs. Cole nodded and started to shoo Harry away. But as Harry was turning, wiry fingers suddenly wrapped around his arm and turned him back around.

"You were looking to get some breakfast, I reckon?"

Harry nodded.

Mrs. Cole offered him a friendly smile and let go of his arm to rub at his back. "Go sit in the dining hall and I'll have the maids bring you something to break your fast, then."

Harry did as he was told without another word. Although truth be told, he was this close to asking if he could have one of the buns that he saw being pulled out of the oven. He was extremely famished and the sight and smell of food made his mouth water and his stomach groan. But he was intimidated by Mrs. Cole, and he didn't think it would be a good strategy to not be in the good graces of the elderly woman.

As Harry waited for food to arrive, he took in every piece of detail in the dining hall. The walls were lined cream with accents of a gold emblem, which if he stared long enough seems to make up the letters T and M intertwined. The ceiling had three large crystal chandeliers firmly hanging from it, the middle one larger than the others. The seats were all cushioned in red velvet, as well as the backs, plain except for the single golden emblem perched on the topmost part of the splat. 

The long table was made of mahogany and was obviously very sturdy. But it seemed very old; like it had been there for years, generations even. He figured that it must have been host to so many feasts and witnessed so many different kinds of people--rich, beautiful people, he was certain. He suddenly felt very out-of-place. He shouldn't be eating there, he thought. The table was much too lovely for the likes of him.

He was contemplating on standing up and going back to the kitchen to eat with the servants he saw from the corner of his eye earlier, when the swinging door that connected the dining hall to the kitchen burst open. Out came two women; one carrying two wicker baskets filled with different kinds of bread, the other carrying a platter of various cheeses. As they settled the food in front of him, two more women came in with more plates of food. Soon, there was a spread in front of Harry consisting of ham and sausages, baked beans and roasted potatoes, fresh fruits and juices. He's never seen so much food in his life, and really, he was torn between crying at how beautiful it all was and ravaging all of it as quickly and as much as he could.

As soon as the last of the servers have gone from the room, Mrs. Cole entered. "Well, go on then! Why haven't you any food on your plate yet?"

Harry was quiet. Unsure. To which Mrs. Cole must have sensed easily.

"Is something the matter, sweetheart?"

He smiled at her shyly. "I was just... I was wondering if, um..."

A fond smile crept to her lips. "Do you wish to see Master Louis?"

He nodded. "I want to thank him. For being so kind to me."

"You shall get your chance. But not today, I'm afraid."

"Oh," he said, shoulders falling, disappointment clear on his face. But then quickly, Harry straightened his back and looked up hopefully to Mrs. Cole. "Can I see Eleanor?"

"Missed me already?" said a voice, coming from the far end of the room. They both turn to see Eleanor tying her lap apron on the back of her maid's uniform, grinning cheekily.

Harry's face lit up upon seeing a familiar face, but Mrs. Cole's sported the exact opposite.

"You are extremely late, young lady!" she said sternly. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Not my fault, is it? If Louis hadn't slept late, we'd have left early for the airport and I've had gotten back on time."

Mrs. Cole rolled her eyes. "If your father heard you calling--"

" _Master_ Louis. Jeez. Sorry!" Eleanor turned to Harry, all smiley again. "You're looking good."

"Thanks," he said beaming. "You too."

"Come along, El. Let's leave Master Harry to his meal."

Eleanor gave him a soft pat on the head when Mrs. Cole wasn't looking as she quietly followed the elder woman towards the kitchen. Harry, though, was feeling quite vulnerable and overwhelmed that he most certainly didn't feel like being left alone.

"But, um, excuse me ma'am?" Both women halted and turned to look at him. "Would it be alright if... If maybe Eleanor would accompany me for breakfast today?"

Eleanor grinned at him and then at Mrs. Cole who already had one brow raised high up her forehead. For a moment, Harry was worried that she would say no, but thankfully she agreed. "Very well. But we leave for the supermarket at ten. I trust you would have Master Harry settled by then."

Eleanor nodded cheerfully. "I'll bring him to Niall. Or Liam."

Mrs. Cole was thoughtful for a moment and then, "bring him to Liam first. Definitely, Liam first." She turned to Harry again, bid him a good morning, and left the dining hall.

"Well, eat!" Eleanor exclaimed as she sat on the chair next to Harry. "I am not serving you food, if that's what you're waiting for."

Harry vehemently shook his head. "N-no. Of-of course not." He quickly grabbed a slice of bread and bit almost half of it.

Eleanor giggled. "Take it easy. I don't mean for you to choke. You have to relax a little, Harry."

Harry did. He's only known Eleanor less than two days and he's already at ease with her. She was nice. Quite assuming, but it's actually endearing. She treats him like a friend, and he's never had a friend. Not that he remembers.

"Master Louis went to the airport? Where to?"

She looked at him, amused. "Don't call him that. You're not required to call him that."

"But everyone else seems to."

"Yes. But everyone here is working for him. You don't."

"Yeah, about that. You think perhaps he would give me a job in the Manor? I-I'll do anything."

She smiled questioningly at him. "Why would you want that? You're a guest here Harry."

He was about to put a spoonful of baked beans in his mouth, but paused and placed it back on his plate instead. He dipped his head and gave her a small nod. "But if I'm a guest here, it means I'll have to leave sooner or later. And I don't have anywhere else to go."

The silence seemed to stretch between them for minutes before he braved to look at her. She was smiling but he can see that there was that underlying pity beneath it.

"I'm sure Louis will find a place for you here."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please revisit chapter 1 if you haven't seen my update there yet because it's a very important edit.
> 
> I have no beta, btw. So please forgive any grammar or spelling mistakes. Or any redundancies.

"Well, is he okay?"

"He's fine. I left him with Liam. Mrs. Cole insisted that I bring him to Liam." She chuckled. "I think she may be worried Niall would be too much for the lad while he's still on recovery."

He smiled. "Good call, actually."

"So you're really on your way back? What the hell happened?"

He huffed in annoyance. "Well, it seems the storm in Manchester is not letting up any time soon. They had to cancel the flight."

She clucked her tongue. "Ah. That's too bad."

"Right? I mean, I was at the airport for five hours! How utterly inconsiderate."

"Oh shush! You were in your private lounge the whole time with all the champagne you can drink and an X-Box and a Playstation at your disposal. You have no right to complain, you brat." He can practically see her rolling her eyes.

"My time is very valuable, thank you very much!"

"Whatever. Listen, I'll see you at the Manor. Mrs. Cole has been glaring at me for the last fifteen minutes. I've been in the same aisle for the longest time."

"Oh, wait. Get me one of those crisps from America. The potato skins thing."

"Oh right, right. Yes. Those are great. Anything else?"

"The Starbucks Frappuccino in a bottle?"

"Well, naturally. I've got four packs already. You think we need more?"

He laughed. "Figured you already got them. No, that's good. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

"Right. Bye, love."

\---

"Welcome home, Master Louis," Alfred greeted when Louis was two steps shy of the landing to the front door.

"Thank you, Albert," he replied upon entering the Manor.

"I'm sorry to hear your flight was cancelled, sire," Alfred said taking Louis' coat and hat.

"As am I. Eleanor said that our guest is feeling well?"

Alfred nodded. "I believe he is with Liam in the gardens, still."

He instructed the old man to send Eleanor to him as soon as she arrives from the supermarket, and then proceeded to lie down in his room. The trip from the airport was rather long and it was a tiresome ordeal to be sitting in the car for the hour-and-a-half drive.

The Manor was but a small portion of Tomlinson estate, which is really an isolated island southeast of Carlton City. There is one bridge that connected the estate from the city, which is the only way to travel to and fro by land. Visitors may likewise enter the estate by water, through the docks at the western side of the island.

Tomlinson estate may very well be likened to a small town. It employs more than eighty people, including maids at the Manor, several gardeners, three or four animal tenders, and a small army of security personnel. Every one of them resides in the estate, including their immediate families.

The island was not extremely large, but neither was it small. Anyone who dared explore every corner of the island would do well to bring a motorized vehicle with him if he didn't want to waste away the whole day walking. Even if one started off on foot before dawn, he is sure to finish circling the entire perimeter after dawn...of the following day.

The estate has been under the control of the family since 1842, when it was gifted to Louis' father's kin by Queen Victoria for his loyalty to the crown at the time when the country was under Britain's rule. After the country gained its independence in 1904, there have been several attempts by Parliament to retrieve the island and declare it as public land. All of which had failed miserably for two reasons: one, the Tomlinson family has never ceased to be friends of the British crown during all this time, and two, the inhabitants of the island (which is to say, the employees) have always sworn allegiance to the family and never allowed invasion of any sorts by the government or other people. In fact, many of the workers under Louis' command are children of past workers during his grandparents' leadership.

Louis fell asleep sometime in the middle of Rock Hudson's E! True Hollywood Story and woke up to the gentle prodding of Eleanor.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily, stretching arms across his large bed.

"It's past noon. Lunch is about ready to be served. Do you wish to dine with Harry?"

He thought for a moment. He was still slightly annoyed at the cancellation of his flight and wasn't keen on interacting with a stranger, to be perfectly honest. "No," he decided.

Eleanor frowned. "He's been asking for you."

"El, I'm really not feeling friendly today."

There was a momentary pause before Eleanor was nodding. "Alright. Shall I bring your meal up here instead?"

"Yes, please."

\---

Harry's been living in the Manor for five days now and he still hasn't had a chance to meet Louis face to face. The Master of the house was either feeling under the weather or extremely busy or out of the country. He feels extremely awkward with each passing day that he's slept in his host's guest bedroom, or ate his host's food or laughed with his host's servants, without having had a chance to express his gratitude.

And really, Harry is beyond grateful.

On his best nights sleeping on the streets (which were basically when the weather is not freezing cold or uncomfortably humid), he only ever wished to sleep atop a duvet for once instead of the random cardboard boxes he'd laid on. On his best meals (which were basically a half-eaten loaded sandwich that a stranger so kindly rewrapped in its paper before dropping it in the bin), he only ever wished to have cold cola to partner it with. On his best days (which were basically when he and a stray dog found each other and became companions for a shot period of time), he only ever wished that his canine friend was happy in his company.

But these past five days, he'd gotten so much more than what he'd been wishing for for the last few years. He didn't feel right just taking and taking without so much as a thank you uttered to this angel who had taken him in.

Niall had dropped him off at the gardens in the northeast side of the estate after taking Little and Mixer for a gallop that morning--a ritual that he and the Irish fellow had performed with various horses under NIall's care since they met.

He liked Niall. He was loud when he spoke, which Harry was thankful for because with how thick his accent was it was difficult to make out what he was saying most of the time. When he laughed, he did it with so much gusto and honesty. And he was kind--very kind, like all the people he'd had a chance to interact with in the estate--but Harry would silently wish every time Niall waved goodbye at him that he could be friends with Niall for the rest of his life.

Harry also silently wished that he could be friends with Liam for the rest of his life. Because Liam was kind and lovely as Niall and Eleanor. But Liam was different from the two. He was quieter and more discerning than them. And Liam would always ask him if he's feeling alright when they see each other and tell him to come find him if he needed help with anything when they part.

"Harry!" Liam exclaimed as soon as he saw a big head of curls walking towards him from the archway that served as an entrance to the garden. "Feeling alright?"

Harry grinned and nodded. "Yes, I am!"

"Had a jolly good ride with Niall, then?"

"Very much. Mixer was lovely."

"Oh, you rode Mixer?" he asked rhetorically as he restarted digging on the soil around a paper bush. "She's Master Louis' favourite, you know."

Harry's eyes brightened. "She is? I can see why."

"Affectionate little thing, isn't she?"

Harry bobbed his head, kneeling on the ground in front of Liam and resting his bum on his shins. "She whimpered when I unmounted and nuzzled at my cheek." He giggled at the memory. "And she wouldn't let Niall tug her away."

Liam laughed, and Harry found his crinkly eyes beautiful. "She really likes you, mate! I don't think she's ever done that before, you know, refuse to be parted with her rider. Well, maybe except--"

Harry looked at him expectantly but was only met with a slightly faltered smile. Liam looked down at the bush and shook his head quickly. Before Harry could even press on the matter, Liam already said, "you do kind of smell like horse, buddy."

And they both laughed.

"I don't mind. I really really like Mixer."

"Master Louis would be happy to hear that."

"Is he here, Liam? Can I see him now?"

Liam looked at him with a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, bud. I actually don't know. I rarely get to see him myself, not living in the Manor, you see?"

"Right."

And it's just like Liam to pause with his task at the somber tone that Harry failed to suppress. "It's alright, Harry. You will meet him soon, I'm certain. He's just generally a busy man. He runs the entire estate and tends to the business of his family all by himself, and dines with his friends in between."

"Does he not stay home too often?"

"Eleanor said that he does. I just don't see him, is all. He keeps to the Manor, I guess."

"But I've been living in the Manor this whole time. I haven't seen his shadow at all."

Liam smiled. "Like, I said. He probably has a lot in his hands these days."

"I've seen recent pictures of Master Louis. He is not old. I'd say he's only about a year older than you or summat. Why is he required to do all of that, then?"

Liam's eyebrows furrowed. "Do you not know, really?"

"Know what?"

Sighing, he answered, "Master Louis' parents are no longer with us. He was orphaned at a very young age, I'm afraid."

Harry's eyes fell to his lap in understanding. It made sense to him now, how he's never heard any of the servants in the Manor speak about other Masters or Mistresses. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's not your fault, is it?"

"How did they pass away?"

Liam straightened his back, as if his next declaration was deserving of an honorific stance. "Defending the estate and the those they love."

\---

He was eight years old when men in dark grunge clothing came as the sun began to set. He remembered his dad furiously barging into their home that afternoon right before the attack.

"They won't help us!" He exclaimed as he made way upstairs to retrieve something. Liam was sitting on the couch watching a cartoon show on the telly, his older sister Ruth on the floor with a coloring book. His mum and his eldest sister Nicola came running out of the kitchen when they heard the loud bang of the front door.

"What happened, Geoff?" his mum asked, calling from down the stairs to his dad who he can hear rummaging through things above them.

His dad came sprinting down the steps with a rifle. "The government won't send help! Master Tomlinson has called for assistance after he confirmed that pirates are on their way to the estate and they refused him!"

His mum's face drained with all color and she grabbed her mouth with one hand, eyes wide with fear. "Oh good Lord," she whispered. "The children..."

Liam saw his dad calm down instantly and grab his mum in a tight embrace. "They'll be fine, Karen. We've survived an attack before. The men in the island are armed. We can take them."

She quickly pulled away and nodded her head, the expression on her face was stern and determined and brave. "How long until they come?"

"An hour. Maybe two."

For a moment, he saw his mum's face twist as if she was about to cry, but it was gone as soon as he blinked. She nodded, showing purpose. "We shall prepare the shed."

His dad gripped at her mum's arm and nodded, staring into her eyes as if saying something to her. Before he left the house he kissed Nicola and Ruth on both cheeks and told them to be good for their mum and to help take care of the other children. Ruth was only quiet and didn't seem to understand the gravity of the situation, but Nicola was already crying.

"Daddy..." she began, clutching on their dad's shirt.

"Shh, sweetheart, it'll be fine. Now be a good girl and help your mum."

Liam had been standing against the wall of the doorway, watching silently at the exchanges that he barely comprehended. His dad knelt on one knee in front of him, large hand resting on his tiny shoulder. "Hey, buddy," he greeted normally. "I need you to do something for me, okay?"

He nodded.

"I need you to be good and listen to mum and Nicola. And if you get scared or if Ruth gets scared," he paused to turn to Ruth before looking back at him, "you hold each other, alright? You don't leave each other no matter what happens."

"Okay, daddy," was his answer. It didn't really mean anything to him at the time. He was simply an obedient child and knew that his parents were pleased when he did what they said. "What about Boris?"

His dad's face lightened up, he looked amused that their pet cat was brought into the conversation. "You hold Boris tight. Don't let him out of your sight, okay?"

Liam nodded. And then his father was dashing out of the door without another word or even a cursory glance at the women behind him.

A few minutes later, while he was hugging Boris securely against his chest and watching silently as his mum and sisters carried items to the underground shed of their home, Niall and his ma walked through the open door. They parted without saying anything to each other as Niall went straight to Liam and his ma went straight down to the shed.

"Hi, Boris!" Niall greeted as he opened his arms and motioning for the cat to come to him.

To Liam's mild annoyance, the damn thing started wiggling out of his hold and when he finally loosened his grip on the cat, it jumped onto Niall's lap. "Hey! He's **_my_** cat!" Liam complained, but neither Boris nor Niall paid him any mind.

The shed was actually a crafted bomb shelter built many years ago during the first World War. There are only four of it built in the entire estate: one somewhere deep in the Manor, one underneath the towering fountain at the entrance of the estate, and two underneath separate random houses, one of which was Liam's family's.

There had only been three instances before when the sheds were used for their true purpose. First towards the end of the first World War as Carlton was attacked by Nazis, and then again sometime in the second World War when Russian soldiers pillaged the island for their own survival. The last time was in the early eighties when pirates saw an opening at a time when the Tomlinsons and the government was at a standstill over the ownership of the island, and Parliament decided to remove the estate from the daily route of the Coast Guard, leaving the island without any protection.

When Liam got older, he learned that many had died during the first pirate siege, and Master Tomlinson had taken it upon himself to train the men of the island in the use of arms, as well as in hand to hand combat, for times when the security personnel it had under its payroll was not enough to protect everyone. He saw photos of the funeral where some fifteen coffins were lined up during a memorial service at the estate before the trip to the memorial garden located in the city began. There was a photo of Mistress Tomlinson, Louis' grandmother, in tears as she comforted one of the widows. It was then that Liam understood just how much the Tomlinsons loved the people who worked for them in their estate, and how much these employees, servants and workers all loved them back.

There were about thirty people in the shed, from children to the feeble elder men who could no longer carry a weapon. His mum and Niall's ma took charge mostly of comforting and ensuring that everyone was well and fed and unafraid.

After the first hour of being in the shed, his mum, Niall's ma and Old McDonald, a farmer who cared for the livestock in the estate along with his two sons (and whom he was sure at the time was the oldest person in all of the island), were in a small huddle talking in low voices. They were arguing about something that Liam couldn't hear. And then his mum and Old McDonald were nodding warily. And Niall's ma nodded once, although she was more determined.

Then Niall's ma was walking to the staircase that led up to the house. Liam realized that she was leaving. He looked towards Niall to see his reaction, but the boy was oblivious, happy as the tip of his nose was being licked by Boris. He didn't know if he should say something to Niall. Surely, it was safe to go out of the shed if the adults agreed to it.

"I'm hungry!" Niall announced suddenly, and his voice tore Liam away from his musings.

"Well, um," he stuttered.

"I saw ma bring biscuits. D'you want one, Liam?" he didn't wait for Liam to answer and he immediately stood up. "I'll get us two each."

Halfway to where he thought his ma would be, Niall stopped and looked around. He finally noticed that his ma was not in the room. "Where's ma?" he asked to no one in particular.

Liam saw his mum scuffle towards Niall, kneeling in front of him and locking both his arms in her hands. She was talking and Niall was staring. And then Niall turned to the slightly lifted latch at the top of the staircase, staring at it for a moment. When he turned to look at Karen again, he already had tears in his eyes.

He began to struggle from her hold, but she wouldn't let go, trying to calm him with words. But Liam saw that Niall will not let up because he got more violent in his struggle to be freed. By then, Old McDonald was there, settling behind Niall and wrapping his arms around the boy.

"Mama! Mama! Mama!" Niall screamed hysterically through his tears. The others watched warily as they realized what was happening, but they didn't dare intervene.

Liam's sisters, however, rushed to Niall. They know Niall enough and treat him like a little brother, like Liam. Niall only has an older brother named Greg but he was not affectionate, and Niall needed lots and lots of cuddles most of the time, and he needed someone to kiss his boo-boo, and Liam's sisters were all too happy to give them to Niall if Liam was being a right prick about it when Niall asked him to. Yes, they loved Niall, and it made sense that they'd jump now to comfort him.

At some point during the commotion, Liam realized that Niall was not holding Boris anymore. He frantically turned and looked around him if Boris was sat somewhere, and when he didn't find Boris, he scanned the entirety of the room... until he saw the unmistakable white and orange tail of his cat slipping through the crack of the latch on top of the stairs.

The words of his dad came ringing in his ears. Liam dreaded nothing more than disappointing his parents, so there was no hesitation when he stood up and made way to stairs, quietly walking past the ring of bodies surrounding Niall and calming him down. He walked up the stairs, glancing back only once halfway through and seeing that everyone was still lost in Niall's sobs.

The latch was not heavy; it was made of strong wood but it was not heavy, at least Liam can lift it with acceptable effort. What kept the people in the shed from harm was the door on the landing. It was made of some kind of steel, and that one was extremely heavy.

Boris could not have nudged that open if it was closed. But it was just Liam's luck that the steel door was ajar, wide enough for even Old McDonald to squeeze through, let alone a small kitty-cat.

Eight-year-old Liam should have probably been afraid, but his thoughts were only on Boris and the mission of retrieving him so they can both go back down to the shed.

"Here, boy," he whispered, slipping through the steel door.

The house was quiet but from where he stood, he could hear the muffled noises that came from outside. He didn't mind it though, still intent on finding Boris. All the lights had been turned off; and were it not for the moonlight streaming through the windows, Liam would have stumbled upon every furniture they had. He wandered into the living area, looking underneath the tables and the couches, hissing Boris' name.

His attention was grabbed when a flash of colored lights painted the starry sky. He went to the window, momentarily forgetting about his pet cat, and watched with fascination as fireworks continued to burst. It made him think of their independence day celebrations. There was always fireworks on independence day.

And then a fluid motion of white and orange, rounding up the corner of the large oak tree across their house, pulled his gaze away from the sky. Boris.

Liam scurried out of the living room and onto their small lawn to cross to the other side of the street. He ran without caution, his mind fixated on the cat. He didn't even notice that the street was empty and all the houses were dark from inside and that the only artificial light came from the streetlamps of that section of the estate, they have taken to calling The Village.

Boris started to run to the direction of the lake. Liam was on the verge of pulling his hair from frustration. "Boris!" he screamed as his feet picked up speed to catch up with his runaway pet. When he finally closed in on the cat, his heart sank again when he saw Boris climbing a tree. But it was the tree he and Niall climbed all the time, and his resolve strengthened.

He started climbing as soon as he got to the root, keeping his eyes on the cat the whole time. Liam didn't notice how high up they were getting, until Boris finally stopped and Liam finally reached him. Boris sat comfortably on a branch, looking at Liam, who was standing between two deep branches that held him securely in place.

He was about to coo Boris into coming closer to him when he saw it.

At the edge of the lake, closest to the Manor, there were men pointing their rifles and guns to the sea. On the side of the Manor, there were men being tied down. He saw his dad instructing the men who did the tying. And then Master Tomlinson was next to his dad, gripping at his shoulder, giving some sort of orders, flailing the armalite he was clutching with one hand about. His dad nodded and then he was off somewhere.

But then his dad was screaming frantically and Liam whipped his head to where he heard his dad's voice. "They've landed on the docks!" he heard before he saw his dad. Then suddenly his dad tripped and fell on his face. Except he didn't stand up. And something cold crept up Liam's spine.

"Daddy," he whispered, at the same time Master Tomlinson's booming voice echoed, "Geoff!"

Master Tomlinson, along with a group of burly men, aimed their guns at the same direction and started shooting, walking in unison like it was choreographed. The men kept shooting and walking past his dad's body, except Master Tomlinson and (he just noticed) Niall's dad. They were both bent down, doing something he can't clearly see, and then they were pulling his dad up. And he saw that his dad kicked his knee up to help the two men to get him vertical.

Liam was crying. He didn't even know how or when it happened, but the next thing he knew was that he was crying. He was overwhelmingly relieved because his dad was alive. And at eight years old, he finally understood how sometimes when people cry, it was because they were very, very happy.

He watched from atop the tree the entire siege, quiet as a mouse. He knew he shouldn't be there, but Boris still won't come close to him and if he moved to reach out for his cat, he might fall. And he's fallen far too many times to not have learned his lesson. So he stayed where he was and just watched the commotion and the gore.

At some point during all the people getting injured and dying, he thought that he should probably look away lest he get nightmares from all of this until he's forty, but he can't. He was trying to understand what was happening and why the men in the estate were fighting against these pack of strangers when the door of the Manor burst open.

A man in dark and tattered clothing with a gun in one hand and gripping at a boy's waist on the other, carrying him easily, walked lazily down the steps. As he came into the open ground, Liam finally realized that the boy was Master Louis, he was dangling from the man's grip and he was crying.

The man placed the barrel of the gun to Master Louis' temple when men of the estate aimed their guns instinctively at him. "Ah, ah, ah. Careful now. Wouldn't want my finger to slip, do we?"

"Don't!" A woman shrieked as she came into Liam's view. Lady Tomlinson. "Put your weapons down," she pleaded to her men. "Just... just put them down."

The man smirked as the men reluctantly lowered their guns. "Thank you, mi'lady." Liam knew then that this man was a pirate; but not just any pirate, he was the captain.

"P-please. give me my son back. He is a child. He's not what you came here for."

"Oh but he is, isn't he? I came here with the intention of taking home a prize. And I can tell that this lovely, lovely boy is the biggest prize in all this land."

"N-no, no, no. Please don't. Please. I..."

"What is this? Are you prepared to give yourself in exchange for your son?"

Liam saw the lady tense, her eyes widened in fear. The disapproval of the estate's men were apparent. Liam saw that at least two men had almost jumped at the pirate were it not for the gun still pointing at Master Louis.

"Let him go and I shall come with you." Her voice was blank, emotionless. Liam wondered if she was scared at all.

One of the men roared, "Lady Tomlinson, no!" But the pirate grinned; the rotten teeth was undeniable, even from Liam's vantage point. Lady Tomlinson looked at the man who objected--Niall's brother Greg--and smiled at him, reassuring, as if to say "it's alright."

The man instructed her to come closer before he'll release the boy. She followed silently and unflinching. As soon as she was within reach, the barrel travelled from Master Louis' temple to Lady Tomlinson's, then her neck was instantly wrapped with a dirty arm.

Liam saw the lady mouthing words, "run, baby," he thought it was. She was looking at Master Louis, who was still sobbing from fear.

Before the little master could move, a commanding voice echoed amidst the sounds of guns going off a little far off towards the edge of the lake. "Johannah!"

"Mark! Take Louis, please! Mark, take him away!" she pleaded, her throat constricted by the arm of the man behind her.

Master Tomlinson didn't do as she asked, but Niall's dad took it upon himself to grab the child and place him behind him. Master Louis clung to the trousers of Niall's dad, peeking from behind his legs to see what will happen next.

"Easy now," said Master Tomlinson, raising his gun (he's holding a rifle now) towards the bandit and his wife.

The man started backing away, smugness still painted on his face. The estate's men allowed him through as their master nodded at them to do so. Master Tomlinson moved forward in the same pace as the pirate.

"You do know that I will not let you get off this island, right?"

"Oh, but you will, great **_master_**." His voice condescending. "Lest you want to see your--"

"All your men have been contained. The rest have fled."

The smirk fell off the man's face.

Master Tomlinson continued. "You are alone, sir. If you let her go now, I shall gift you with mercy and let you live."

The man frowned, then growled. "So you could place me in a cage while your government decides on how to execute me?" He laughed humorlessly. "I don't think so!"

"You will die tonight if you refuse my offer, I promise you that."

The man was quiet, but his hand remained steady as his gun was still pressed on the lady's temple.

Master Tomlinson took this as an opportunity to convince the bandit, to reel him in. "You can make amends. You can seek penance. If you desire to change your ways, I will help you."

There was silence among them before the man spoke. His voice was low, but Liam could make out what he was saying if he strained just enough. "I had a son once too. He had brown hair like your boy. And blue eyes. My son had the most beautiful blue eyes. Does he... What's the color of his eyes?" Gesturing at the little master behind Niall's dad.

Master Tomlinson turned to his son and then back at the man. But before he could answer, Lady Tomlinson said, "Blue. He's got blue eyes, as well." And her tone was soft and comforting.

"C-can I... Can I see them?"

Niall's dad instinctively pushed Master Louis farther behind him, covering him from the bandit's gaze.

"Release my wife and throw your weapon away."

"You won't shoot me if I do?"

"I give you my word."

"Them?" Signaling to the other men there.

The men of the estate had been quiet the entire time, but they were alert. And their weapons had been lowered, but they were still in hand.

"They answer to me. They will not harm you."

Liam held his breath as he waited--as everyone waited--for the man's next move. And then he pulled his hand from where it was raised, let it fall to his side; and just as soon, his pistol fell softly to the ground.

Instantly, all the other guns cocked and aimed at him, while Master Tomlinson quickly moved to embrace his wife.

"Your word!" The man screamed petulantly, obvious worry tainting his words.

Master Tomlinson looked up from where his face was buried in Lady Tomlinson's neck. He gently pulled away from her, but not too much. He looked at the pistol next to the man and nodded once, "kick it here, please."

The pirate rolled his eyes annoyingly, but kicked the pistol nonetheless. Convinced that it was safe enough, the master ordered his men to let their arms down.

"Can I see them? The boy's eyes... Please," tacking that last word in, as if an afterthought.

The master and the lady looked at each other and Liam saw the agreement in their silence.

"Come here, darling," Lady Tomlinson called gently to her son.

Master Louis didn't hesitate. He ran to his mother, who had bent down quickly to take him in her arms as he crashed into her. She whispered something in his ear, and when she pulled back to look at him, he nodded. Lady Tomlinson smiled and held his face lovingly with one hand before kissing his cheek.

She stood up and took his hand; with a smile directed at her husband, she started off to guide Master Louis to the short distance where the pirate still stood waiting.

The lady stopped a few feet away from the man and brought Master Louis in front of her, holding him firmly on the shoulders to let him know that she was right there. "What do you say, baby?"

"Hello, my name is Louis."

The pirate's face softened at the timid squeak from boy. There was a genuine but sad smile that showed on his face. He knelt on one knee to level with the boy. "My name is Troy," he said. It was the gentlest tone Liam's heard him speak; he didn't sound like a pirate at all.

"How do you do, Mr. Troy?"

"Not very well, I'm afraid, child."

"Um. Sorry to hear that." Master Louis clasped his hands and looked down on it, and then, "mummy said you have a son before but not anymore. What happened to him?"

"He died, sweet one."

"Oh. When my hamster died, I was very sad. Were you very sad too?"

The pirate--Troy--dipped his head and nodded. After a moment, he looked up at Master Louis again. "Let me see your eyes," he said softly. "Lean in closer so I can have a good look, child."

Master Louis took a step closer, Lady Tomlinson's hands still firmly gripped on his shoulders.

The pirate leaned in too. Liam saw the exact moment when the man Troy saw the beautiful blue eyes of Master Louis because the man's tears began to stream down his face.

"Just like his," Troy said softly. "Just like my boy's."

Then Lady Tomlinson screamed " ** _No_** " and flung Master Louis away with all her might. The boy landed with a loud thud on his arm, which Liam was so sure had broken instantly under his weight. He turned back quickly to the lady only to see her slumped against Troy's body, a knife stuck deeply into her side.

There were six men on the ground at the time but only Master Tomlinson had reacted, everyone else was frozen and shocked by what just happened. They didn't even see the knife on the lady's side. 

"Johannah!" the master exclaimed. Perhaps it was in the suddenness of it all that he ended up dropping his weapon and running toward his wife.

"Greg!" someone bellowed from behind the master--Niall's dad.

When Liam turned to where he realized Niall's dad was staring, he saw Niall's brother snap back into consciousness, raise his rifle, aim at the back of the pirate and pull the trigger without an ounce of hesitation.

But not before Troy hurled the thick knife he used to stab the lady towards Master Tomlinson.

Troy fell to the ground at the exact moment the knife tacked onto the Master's chest.

The men moved to the fallen bodies in synchrony, as if there had already been designations made beforehand. Greg and the man across him went straight to the Lady Tomlinson, Niall's dad and another of the older men to Master Tomlinson, one of the younger men scooped an unconscious Master Louis, and one closed in on the pirate and shot him pointblank in the head.

Liam found himself crying again.

\---

Harry had been trying to hold back his tears the entire time Liam recounted the siege. He felt for Liam because Liam was there. He saw everything when he shouldn't have had to. He was much too young to be subjected to so much. 

Harry wondered if Liam's had nightmares because of it, but he was too shy to ask.

"They died there on the spot?"

Liam shook his head slowly. "Well, Lady Tomlinson did. But I think she was able to say goodbye to Master Tomlinson. I saw her lips moving when he got to her. He crawled, you know. Even with the knife stuck to his chest, he crawled to get to her."

Liam rubbed his eyes with his forearm before he continued--his hands confined in gardening gloves. "Master Tomlinson died a week later in the hospital. He's punctured his lungs, they said. There was nothing that could be done."

Harry nodded, somber and feeling the weight of this discovery.

"And Master Louis? Was he... I mean, how was he?"

Liam shrugged. "Not good, I guess. I didn't see him all about the estate for a long while. The grown ups said that he went to a boarding school in England. I reckon that's true because I see him during the summer but not during school days."

Harry didn't know what else to say so he just quietly stared at the flowers in front of Liam, who began working with his hands again. And for a brief moment, comfortable silence ensued between them. And then, Harry was hit with a brilliant idea.

"Hey, Li."

Liam looked up and was met with a dimpled smile. He cocked a brow.

"I need your help, okay? I know how to thank Master Louis."


	3. Chapter 3

It was past midnight when he arrived back at the Manor, a woman in a sparkly golden dress in the car with him. Her name was Chelsea. Charity. Chastity? He decided it was not Chastity because that would be terribly ironic if she so easily agreed to come home with him.

When they pulled up on the driveway in front of the door, Louis helped her out of the car like any gentleman would (although he promised that once they're inside his bedroom, all pretense of gentleness will be lost), but asked her to wait for him while he gave instructions to his driver. She simply tightened her fur cover-up--which Louis was disgusted with because he was sure it was made with real animal fur and he was sternly against using animal furs for clothing--and smiled.

Louis walked toward the front of the Bentley; Paul meeting him there.

"I want her back in the city by ten."

Paul nodded.

"If I don't show her to the door before you depart, have Eleanor come and get her."

"Of course, sir."

Louis nodded. "Thanks, Paul."

"And it's Cheryl," Paul whispered, leaning down to ensure that his words didn't travel through the wind.

"What?"

Paul nodded to the woman by the steps. "Name, sir."

Louis turned to where Paul gestured and returned to his driver/bodyguard grinning. He patted the giant-of-a-man on his muscled arm, firmly but with obvious gratefulness, before making his way to the Manor.

One of the maids opened the door for Louis and his lady friend, Alfred, in his very advanced age, being already asleep. It was Cheryl's first time in the Manor--and if Louis can help it, will also be her last--so Louis allowed her to gasp and gush and stare at every corner, every wall, every furniture, everything that she laid her eyes on.

"This house is incredible!" she exclaimed brightly as she looked back at him.

Louis simply replied with a polite smile, one that he forced to reach his eyes.

She stepped closer to him seductively, pulling his tie with one hand and fondling the hair on the back of his neck with the other. "Aren't you going to give me a tour?"

Louis wrapped a hand around her waist and leaned in to give the side of her neck a long lick. He kissed her softly along the jawline towards her fake diamond earing and whispered, "Tomorrow, love. There's plenty of time then."

She shuddered under his breath, and with half-lidded eyes, she nodded.

Louis pulled her up the stairs to his room, which was dimly lit when they entered. He was shrugging off his jacket when he heard Cheryl coo. When he turned to look at her, she was gliding towards the table and chairs at the corner of the room near the glass door to the balcony, where Louis often ate his meals when he wanted to be alone.

There was a basket filled with a variety of flowers on it, presentably arranged.

"Is this for me?" she asked, bending over it to inhale the scent.

"Um." He was certain he did not have anyone get flowers for her.

"Oh a card!" She picked it up and turned to Louis. "It's yours."

"Mine?" he asked, moving closer to her.

"Yes, your name is on the card."

True enough, when she lifted the card to his face, it said **_Master Louis_** in cursive penmanship. He took the card from her, went to the lit desk lamp near the bed and read the note inside.

**_Dear Master Louis,_ **

**_Thank you so much for your kindness. I shall forever be indebted to you. I had intended to thank you in person, but it seems you have been in dispose. So I hope this would be enough for now._ **

**_Very Truly Yours,  
Harry_ **

Harry. Louis' almost forgotten about the boy he had taken in. He looked back to the flower arrangement on the table--Cheryl no longer obstructing the view as she's taken it upon herself to proceed to the bathroom--and felt himself smile with genuine fondness. Louis looked at the card again to read the note and it made him frown this time because he recognized the handwriting. It was Eleanor's.

It only took a moment though for him to solve the puzzle. Harry didn't know how to write. And Louis knew that Eleanor had welcomed and befriended Harry in his stead, so he was certain that they have somewhat become close enough for Eleanor to do Harry this favor. He realized too that the bouquet could have only been the handiwork of Liam, unless Harry coincidentally had the same talent as the gardener.

Louis went to the flowers and really looked at them. It was indeed very thoughtful of Harry to give him such a beautiful present. He then felt a pang of guilt at having ignored the boy for so many days. It was rather rude to bring Harry to his home and not have to properly welcome his guest.

So he fished out his mobile from his pocket and sent Eleanor a text message saying that he shall have breakfast with Harry in the morning. As soon as he tapped SEND, a pair of thin arms was already snaking around his middle.

\---

Louis woke up to the soft rays of the sun bathing him. Someone had pulled the curtains wide open obviously, and he didn't have second thoughts as to the witch who did it. But he did have second thoughts as to the warm body pressed against his side, a leg hooked to his thigh.

Eleanor exaggeratedly cleared her throat from somewhere in the room, most likely next to his bed. Louis stirred, and so did the body clinging to him. _Cheryl, right._ He peeked with one eye and saw the girl standing by the bed on the side where Cheryl laid.

"Master Louis, it's time to wake up."

"Right," he said with a raspy voice that was caused by sleep.

Cheryl groaned and tightened her grip around his waist. "Go away, knave," she muttered against his skin, not bothering to open her eyes.

Eleanor's eyes widened, appalled at the gall of this woman to, one, even dare address her, and two, call her a _male_ servant! She glared at Louis in ominous silence, flickering her eyes to the woman holding on to him. And Louis couldn't help the rumbling of his chest when he couldn't suppress a chuckle. But Louis was sure Eleanor would shave Cheryl's head if he didn't do anything to correct her, so he had to say something.

"Babe," he whispered to Cheryl, stroking her unruly hair. "This is Eleanor. Go with her and she'll help you get ready."

"Mmm. Ready for what?" she asked, still not moving from her position.

"To leave, babe."

"Are we going somewhere?" And Louis smirked with amusement at Eleanor rolling her eyes.

"Just you."

Cheryl lifted her head so suddenly that she almost hit him on the nose. "Where am I going?" She sounded wide awake now.

"Well, home, of course. I would have had Paul brought you home afterwards but the man had been working hard the whole day, I couldn't possibly not let him sleep properly."

Cheryl was very appalled, to say the least. Louis almost thought that she might actually slap him.

"Oh my god! It's absolutely true what they say about you!" She exclaimed pulling away, her bare breasts out in the open for even Eleanor to see. Eleanor didn't flinch though. This was not her first rodeo, as they say.

"Oh now, sweetheart. They've said so many things about me, I'm not sure what exactly you heard this time." Louis knew he was being a downright knob at this point, but really, what did she think was this all about?

Cheryl got off the bed, fully naked, and picked up her clothes from the floor one by one, radiating with absolute anger and disgust.

"Please, miss. Let me help," Eleanor said.

Perhaps it was because Cheryl was absolutely seething that she wasn't able to catch the slight hint of sarcasm there because she responded with, "get my purse and shoes," as she stepped into her dress.

"How dare you, Louis!" Cheryl exclaimed as she tugged her gold dress up and over her perfect curves. "Who do you think I am?"

Louis laughed, not condescendingly because he really found the whole situation funny. "Who did _you_ think I am? Love, I did not promise you anything, did I? Come now, let's not fight."

"I am not a whore, you sick bastard!"

Louis was now sitting up. "Coulda fooled me."

She snarled as she walked passed Eleanor, motioning for her to follow. Cheryl didn't wait for the maid to respond, just rushed to exit the room.

Eleanor's eyes widened with amusement.

"Well, that didn't go very well," Louis told her.

"I think we need to revisit your morning-after skills," Eleanor hissed before she was dashing out, clutching Cheryl's purse and shoes, to catch up with the woman.

Louis laughed softly as he fell back on the bed. Interesting start to the day, he reckoned.

\---

Harry woke up excited to see Eleanor to ask her if she had placed the flowers in Master Louis' room, if he went home last night and saw it, if he liked it at all. He had profusely thanked Liam and Eleanor for helping him with his thank you gift. They said that it was a great idea and that Master Louis would absolutely love it, and he really, really hoped they were right.

He skipped down the steps two at a time and walked speedily to the kitchen, where he had been eating his breakfast with the other servants in the Manor after that first day he ate at the dining hall with Eleanor. He was mostly looking forward to meeting Niall at the stables again so they could walk a couple of the horses, as they have done the past days. Liam also said that his sister Nicola was coming home today from the city, where she was working in the Mayor's office, and he said he would love it if Harry met her. And then, Mrs. Cole said yesterday that she would teach Harry to bake a pie in the afternoon, when the daily chores have mostly been done, giving her some spare time for him.

He had so much to look forward to today, but it didn't cross his mind at all that he might actually see Master Louis. He's learned to let go of that expectation already. So he almost had a heart attack when he turned the corner to pass the dining hall on the way to the kitchen and see a man seated at the end of the banquet table. His brown hair was mussed in the most stylish way Harry's ever seen. He was lifting a cup to his lips without taking his eyes away from the wide gadget in front of him, sliding his finger across the screen.

Harry knew then that it was Master Louis. Not just because Harry's seen photos of him, but because it couldn't possibly be anyone else. The confident stance, the obvious air of authority, the commanding presence. It _had_ to be Master Louis.

Harry's heart dropped. He suddenly felt nervous and unsure; afraid even. He had been wishing and hoping to see Master Louis for the longest time, but now that he's here, he didn't think he can handle to be in the master's presence. He felt the beginning of a panic attack brewing in him.

Eleanor. He needed Eleanor.

He was about to turn and go the long way round to the kitchens--where he had to actually go out of the Manor to get to the door where the servants entered--when he was halted by a sing-song tone of his name being called.

"Harry, is that you?"

Harry had no choice but to turn back and meet his host. This is finally it. And he was scared to his bones that he might end up looking like an utter fool.

"Please, come and have breakfast with me." Master Louis was standing up now, waiting for Harry to take the invitation. It was surreal.

Harry was not insolent and he knew that it was disrespectful to make the master of the house wait, so he shuffled, albeit awkwardly, to get closer to him. "G-good morning, M-master Louis," he greeted as soon as he was decently near enough, his head bowed, making sure not to meet his eyes.

"Good morning, Harry. Have a seat."

Harry stood behind the chair right next to Master Louis. He didn't know the etiquette when it comes to sitting when dining with the master of the house. Should he wait for Master Louis to sit first? Or is it rude not to take a seat immediately after he was told to have it?

Master Louis must have sensed his reservation because he reassured him with, "it's alright. Go on, you may sit right there."

Harry took a chance to look up at him and what he saw took his breath away. This close, Master Louis was beyond gorgeous. His smile was so bright Harry felt like he could cry, and his eyes were so blue that if he stared any longer he was sure he'd drown in them.

He didn't know how his muscles moved him to sit on the chair, but the next thing he knew, he was right there.

"Anything you want to drink, man? Tea? Coffee? Juice?"

Harry stared up dumbly at his smiling face. "I... uh."

"I'm sure Mrs. Cole would know, am I right?" Master Louis winked at him and turned for the kitchens.

Once the doors to the kitchen fell to a close, Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He couldn't, for the love of all that is holy, understand why he was so awestruck. That's the thing. Harry was nervous and scared and overwhelmed by Master Louis' presence, but he was mostly awestruck. He tried to recall a time when he was so fascinated by another human being and he just couldn't find any. Maybe he just needed some more time to think it over. Except he didn't have enough time to mull over things because Master Louis was barging into the dining hall again, and Harry froze instantly.

"Mrs. Cole said you liked your tea black with three cubes of sugar," Master Louis said as he took to his seat.

Harry shyly dipped his head and nodded.

"I like my tea black too, but with nothing in it." It was jolly the way he said it; casual.

The corners of Harry's lips quirked. "Like Eleanor," he said softly.

Master Louis laughed, and the sound made Harry's toes tingle. "Yes! Yes, like Eleanor. Except, between you and me, I think I just ended up liking it that way because when she was the one serving me tea before, she wouldn't listen when I told her how to make tea the way I prefer it. So I sort of just gave up insisting what I want."

Harry couldn't help giggling too. For the short time he's known Eleanor, he had no doubt in his mind that what Master Louis was saying about her was true.

Just then, Mrs. Cole entered the hall, followed by a maid who was carrying Harry's cuppa. The maid was named Emily and Harry was quite good friends with her, and he felt embarrassed that Emily was serving him his tea. So Harry whispered a _thank you_ and a _sorry_ to her as she set the cup in front of him. She gave him a reassuring smile that said that it was nothing to be concerned of, and he was glad.

Emily greeted Master Louis a good morning (to which the master returned) before leaving the hall. As soon as she was gone, Mrs. Cole addressed him.

"Having a good morning then, Master Harry?"

Harry nodded, cheeks burning. He's begged Mrs. Cole not to address him as master because he was anything but, yet she refused to waver, and now that she's uttered the word in front of Master Louis, he felt like he was going to die. "Very good, thank you," he managed despite his embarrassment.

"Do you wish to have Emily wait on you as you dine, sir?" To Master Louis this time.

"No, thanks, Mrs. Cole. I believe we have all that we need. Unless our guest here has anything else he wishes for breakfast today?"

Harry felt faint as he met Master Louis' expectant gaze on him. But he was able to shake his head and say that the food on the table was more than enough.

"Very well," Mrs. Cole concluded, and then she was gone.

"Now, Harry," Master Louis started, "tell me, has everyone been good to you? Had they properly taken care of you? Or has anyone been rude or distasteful towards you?"

"Oh no. No, sir. Everyone's been nothing but kind and wonderful and lovely. No--no one's been rude at all. Everyone's been really great."

Master Louis smiled and nodded. "That's good to hear Harry. Go ahead and eat. I was told that you are quite malnourished and we can't have that, can we?"

Harry learned that hunger pains keep his shyness in check because he suddenly didn't hold back from grabbing from the various dishes in front of him and placing them on his own plate. They ate in comfortable silence for awhile until Master Louis spoke again.

"I got your gift last night, Harry."

Harry paused his chewing to focus his attention on Master Louis.

"It was very lovely. Thank you."

Harry shook his head, chewing and swallowing the food in his mouth before saying, "no. It is I who must thank you, Master Louis. I don't even know how you--I just don't know. But I do know you didn't have to. You saved my life, sir. You did. And I... I have nothing to repay you with. I have nothing."

Harry felt his eyes water. All the things he said just now, he was realizing for the first time. Louis did save his life. And he did have nothing to repay him with.

But while here he was on the verge of breaking down, Master Louis looked at him calmly. His gaze was still fierce amidst those blue eyes but they showed honest unselfishness. "There shall be no talk of repayments, Harry. I sold you nothing that you need pay for. Although, I do have one thing to ask you."

Harry looked up at Master Louis with determination. "Anything, sire. Anything, if I can give it."

Master Louis smiled. "Would you remain here and make Tomlinson Estate your home?"

\---

"He wants me to stay! I can stay!"

Harry ran around the Manor once he and Master Louis were done with breakfast, looking for Eleanor. He wanted her to be the first to know of the news. And when she found out, she was ecstatic.

"See? I told you! Didn't I tell you? I told you!" Harry had her small body pinned around his thick arms, and she can barely breathe but didn't want to ruin the moment so she didn't say anything about breathing.

Harry pulled away to look at her. "You did! You did tell me! You were right! Master Louis is so generous and wonderful and I'm filled with so much gratitude I might explode!"

They laughed together for awhile before she had to leave to tend to her chores and he to go to the stables, where Niall must have been wondering why he was so late today.

He jogged on his way to the stables hoping that Niall hadn't left without him. As he neared, disappointment began to creep on him because he can hear nothing but the rustling and isolated snorting and neighing of the horses. 

Niall was very talkative, see? And he talked to the horses when he was there with them, so nobody was really surprised if they happened to walk by and hear him speaking or laughing even though it was almost always that he was the only human in there.

So one can understand why Harry would assume that Niall may have already left without him. He was considering taking a detour instead to find Liam in one of the gardens, but he decided to stop by and say hello to Mixer instead. He was sure Niall didn't take her for a walk because none of the same horses exercise for two consecutive days.

He came to a screeching halt, however, when he was about to round the corner and saw a boy with short blonde hair being pressed against the wall, his face lost in a heated kiss with another, more muscular, boy.

Instinct dictated him to quickly pull back and hide. But curiousity shoved him to peek carefully and check if what he saw was...well, what he saw. Basically that two boys were kissing.

Now, Harry was not a complete idiot. He knew that a deeper relationship between two men was more common in these modern days than ever before. It's called homosexuality, if he recalled correctly. Or gayness? He gets confused sometimes with so many words. He's heard two women talking about it in the park one day two benches away from where he sat eating a sandwich he'd scavenged from the bin. And he also knows that there are people who were angered by it, just as much as there are people who found it beautiful.

But he's never seen such a relationship expressed physically before. Well, at least not with similar intensity as what he's seeing unfolding there at the outer wall of the stables (he'd seen two grown men hugging tightly one time and he'd seen one grown man give another grown man a kiss on the cheek on another time but he didn't know if that counted as gay).

Harry leaned ever so quietly and slowly over the corner, peeking with only one eye. His eyes widened comically when he came to the realization that the boys were Niall and Liam. His friends Niall and Liam. Niall the stable boy and Liam the gardener. Kissing. Hard.

Liam has Niall trapped between his body and the wall, one hand on the blonde's bum and the other on his lower back, gripping him tightly. One of Niall's legs was hooked on the back of Liam's knee, his hands rounding the larger man's neck and gripping at the hair and skin there. Their mouths moved against each other with obvious hunger, tongues darting out every so often and licking at each other's lips and teeth and tongues. There was so much tongue action, Harry was afraid they would end up walking away from this with severely bruised tongues.

And then Liam started rutting his hips forward and up, eliciting the filthiest moan Harry's heard in his life from Niall. And were it not for Liam muffling the sound with his own mouth, Harry was sure it would have disturbed the horses inside. Niall let his head fall on Liam's shoulder as the other continued to rub against him.

"Fuck," Niall breathed before he latched onto Liam's neck.

Liam grunted, not stopping the deliberate rubbing of his crotch against the blonde.

"L-Li, please," Niall whimpered. And Harry felt himself stir in his trousers at the sound of it.

Liam pulled back to look at Niall, and the way that he stared on the smaller boy was so dark and intense--a look that Harry's never seen on Liam before, never thought he'd see on Liam at all. He brought his lips against Niall's mouth, but it was only for a moment, as he pulled away quickly. "The barn." And then he was peeling Niall off of the wall and tugging him away.

Harry watched as they got smaller and smaller, and he debated internally if he should follow. He was so very curious at what will happen in the barn and he wanted to see. But he also felt like he would be intruding, and that would be sorely impolite. And they have been so good to him that he didn't want to disappoint them.

But they didn't have to know, right? They didn't have to see him. He can be quiet. Like a mouse. It would be fine if he did all those. It would be okay to watch.

Right?


	4. Chapter 4

"Fuck... Li... Ohhh... Goddd..." Harry can hear the faint drawl of Niall from outside the barn if he concentrated enough. 

When he got there, the door had been closed shut. There was no way he could open it without them knowing. And to his slight disappointment, there was only one way to enter. There are likewise no windows in the ground level that he could peek through; they were all high up near the roof.

He realized that he had no other choice but to either walk away or listen. He most definitely was not going to walk away. He walked the perimeter quietly, finding a spot were the sounds were the loudest. He found it by the wall opposite the door. He couldn't see the stables from there, and the only view he had was a set of trees making up a sort of small forest. Harry could tell that it was not a usual place where people would simply walk by.

The sound of heavy breathing was so clear and distinct from where he stood that he wouldn't be surprised if Liam and Niall were right there on the other side of the wall. Harry sank to the ground quietly and leaned back against the wall.

There were consistent whimpers and short, labored breathing. But there were also sounds that he associated with those of when a child would suck an ice lolly. It was weird because the whimpers and labored breaths came from one person only, Niall, he concluded. Where was Liam then? Or maybe Liam was just really, really quiet and intent in whatever he was doing. He couldn't hear a second person's voice at all. Just a whole lot of slurping.

"C-close, babe. I'm--" there was a sudden gasp and a long, deep groan, before everything stilled. No whimpers. No breathing.

"C'mere," Niall finally said after a moment, and then there was rustling of hay.

Harry heard a deep moan that he was sure was not from Niall, followed by panting and more rustling of hay.

"C'mon, babe, come for me," Niall said seriously. "C'mon, wanna see you paint my hand right now. And tonight I'll ride you, yeah? Get all of you inside me? Fill me up. Fuck me ha--"

"Niall!" Liam cried. For a moment, Harry almost thought that the wall between him and them had magically disappeared because of the clarity of Liam's intense scream.

"Jesus, Li, there's so much spunk. You'd get a girl pregnant in one go."

Liam chuckled. "Good thing you can't get pregnant then."

And then a pause.

Liam groaned. "Fuck, Ni. Stop doing that, you're going to make me hard again."

"What?" Niall asked in his mischievously playful tone. "I'm not going to let all this go to waste, am I?"

Liam laughed before Harry heard a loud and obvious smack that was undoubtedly a result of a big, exaggerated kiss. "God, you're insufferable."

"But you love me," Niall tacked at the end.

"So, so much."

"I love you too, Li." It was low when Niall said it; solemn and honest. "Always. Forever. I love you like no other, Liam. Only you. You won't forget, right?"

The hay rustled a bit. "No, babe, never. You're mine and I'm always yours."

"I love you," Niall said again in that same timid voice.

"I love you too, Niall."

Harry's head was hung. He's always had nothing ever since he can remember. And seeing people walk past him everyday with a cup of coffee in their hands, or wearing nice fluffy coats to warm their bodies, or the fact that people are walking by him with a purpose of being somewhere, taught Harry about envy. About wanting what they have. And those were a lot of things.

He never thought he'd see the day when he'd be able to choose just one thing over the many things that the world has to offer. But here he was, as sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, foregoing anything and everything else just to have what Niall and Liam have--someone who would love him with so much truth and intensity.

\---

"Good morning, Master Louis."

"Good morning, Jon."

"Good to see you again, Master Louis."

"Thank you, Sarah."

"Beautiful day today, Master Louis."

"Yes it is, Daniel."

He was in a rather good mood today and he didn't mind the incessant greetings from every estate worker he passed. More often than not, he was weary at the repetitive greetings. They mean well, he knows, but it just gets rather tiring to greet everyone back with the same thing.

He thought maybe it was the breakfast with Harry that uplifted his mood. Harry was a timid boy, looking rather uncomfortable for the most part of the meal; but he was probably just intimidated. And not for nothing but Louis was perfectly aware at how intimidating he was, even when he doesn't try to be.

He felt good too when Harry beamed at him when he asked the boy to stay in the estate. Louis does like it when he knows he makes a difference to a person's life. He can be a right prick, but he can also be charitable. And when Eleanor gave him wind that Harry had no more family, and no home to go back to, he didn't really have second thoughts. Harry can stay. The estate is big enough to accommodate one more.

And he was pleased when Harry himself offered to work for his stay. Not so much because Louis wanted him to work for his stay--of course not, the offer was a gift and he would never charge for things he gave as gifts; more so because it showed character. It showed that Harry has good qualities that would fit well as a member of the estate.

He didn't go about blindly with his decision, of course. Eleanor has vouched for Harry; and this, the girl does not do very often. Louis trusts Eleanor with his life, with everything he has; he trusts her judgment and opinions; he trusts that she would never ever stray him. So when she said that he's a good sort and that everyone in the estate is quite fond of him, he made the easy decision to let him stay.

Louis learned from the hour they spent together that morning that Harry was but nineteen, although Louis could have sworn he was younger. Lost his father to a mugger when he was ten. Lost his mother to pneumonia when he was thirteen. While he was in an orphanage, he was bullied by the older kids so much that he fled a month after his fourteenth birthday, choosing to live in the streets rather than suffer their abuse.

While Louis was extremely intrigued, he didn't feel as though it was the proper time to make Harry retell the rest of his life story. The boy was still just recovering from his ailment and they were much too early of an acquaintance to delve deeper into each other.

But he felt a strong urge to take care of the boy; to protect him. He pitied him. He thought it unfair for someone so young to literally have nothing. Sure, he was orphaned at an even younger age than Harry, but at least he was rich; and he still had a family. His baby sister Lottie was still alive and very well; but most of all, he had the estate workers--they were his family just as much as his own flesh and blood.

Yes, Louis does pity Harry.

Speak of the devil.

Louis was on his way to the north gardens, where he was told by Alfred he'd find Liam, when he spied a curly-haired, lanky, pale boy strolling along the outskirts of the forest, shoulders slumped and rather somber. He frowned without meaning to; he'd thought that after such wonderful news, Harry would be ecstatic. He felt slightly offended, if he was being honest.

Before he knew it, some invisible force was pushing him to where the boy was.

"Harry," he called when he was close enough to do so without straining himself.

The boy looked up and, with suddenly wide eyes, bowed to Louis as if he were king. No one could really fault him when he chuckled.

"What are you doing?" Louis asked cheerily as he made to grab Harry by the arms and set him upright.

Harry's cheeks were tinged pink, which Louis figured was because of the chill air, as he looked up. "S-sorry, sir. I was quite surprised to see you out in the estate today."

Louis let out a good-natured laugh. "Have I been missed, do you think?"

Harry bobbed his head repeatedly, the rest of his body still stiff in Louis' grasp. "O-of course, Master Louis. Very much so!"

He looked at this boy he was holding. Harry was taller than him and quite bigger in build too, and yet here was this young boy looking like he was the tiniest next to Louis. And maybe he was anyway. Figuratively, that is.

Louis kept his smile on Harry and lifted a gloved hand to cup the side of his head. Harry looked back at him, still a bit guarded but much easier this time, like he'd finally started to relax. Louis almost thought that he had leaned into the touch even. He nodded before stepping away, his hands sliding into the front pockets of his coat.

"You don't have to call me master, you know."

Harry bowed again as he shook his head, his curls swaying. "I-I have to. Y-you're the master of the house... I can't... I have to..."

Louis saw that he was really quite worried and was on the verge of panicking. He was very amused, actually, but he took pity at the boy and finally reassured him to stop him from stuttering. "Alright, Harry. If you're more comfortable with that, then it's fine. I'm just saying you don't have to."

"B-but I do... I--"

Louis grabbed him by the arms again, chuckling. "Alright. Harry. Relax."

Harry nodded but still refused to look at him; and he was definitely not relaxing. Louis frowned. "Have I done anything wrong to make you so afraid me?"

Harry's head shot up and Louis was struck with sparkling green eyes, eyebrows knitted in worry. He thought maybe his heart skipped a beat, he wasn't sure.

"No, Master Louis. No. I just... You have been so good to me and I never want to disappoint you in any way. I want to please you, sir."

Louis grinned slowly, fond at this boy in front of him. "I wish to be your friend, Harry. It would please me very much if you considered me your friend. Would you do that for me?"

Harry smiled shyly and nodded gently. "Yes."

Louis clapped him on the back before wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "Wonderful! No more of that master business then?"

Harry tensed. Louis bellowed a hearty laugh.

"Alright. Maybe we're not there yet." He let go of Harry and placed a comfortable distance between them. "Come walk with me?"

Harry nodded and they began their stroll.

"What were you doing out here, by the way?" Louis asked.

"I was, uh, looking for Niall. But he's not at the stables."

"Have you checked the barn?" Louis saw Harry burn red, and he wondered aloud, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine. They're not at the barn," Harry answered a little too quickly.

Louis cocked a brow, a smirk planted on his lips. "They?"

"Him. He. Niall. He's not at the barn."

Louis knew Harry must have seen something. It _is_ Niall, after all. Feeling cheeky, he continued, "Did you check inside?"

Harry shook his head, "no."

"Well, maybe he's in there. We should go back and check," Louis announced, turning around with every intention of making way for the barn.

"No!" And Harry's hand was suddenly gripping Louis' arm. He shook his head vigorously. "No, it's fine. It's not important."

Louis was this close to hysterical laughter but he held himself back. "Okay, Harry."

It was only then that Harry realized what he was doing and immediately uncurled his fingers and retracted them as if he's been burnt. "Sorry," he said faintly, twisting his fingers together.

Louis ignored the apology and began walking again in the direction they were originally headed as if nothing happened. They talked about the estate and what Harry's been doing for the past few days he was there and who he's met so far.

Harry spoke very slowly and carefully, but Louis learned that if he just kept asking the right questions, Harry opened up easily and talked endlessly. And the more Harry talked, the more he relaxed around Louis, which was the point, really.

They eventually reached the north gardens and was met with some of the gardeners, except the one that Louis specifically wanted to see. When he asked the gardeners, they said that they didn't know where Liam was at the moment. Some have suggested that he might be at home because his big sister Nicola was coming home today.

Louis had an important video conference at eleven and he must look presentable from the waist up at the very least, so he designated Harry with a task.

"Find Liam for me and ask him about the flowers. He'll know about it, might have had it all ready even. And then have Niall ready my horse."

Harry nodded dutifully before they parted. And as Louis turned for the last time to look at Harry walking away, he felt a strange warmth overwhelming him at the sight of this boy. He shook his head immediately, and silently laughed at himself; at the ridiculousness of it all.

\---

"It wasn't my fault, Lou! Honest!"

Louis sighed. "This is the third time you've been sent to the Headmistress' office. And the year's just begun."

"But it wasn't mine!"

"But you were caught smoking it."

"I know! But I wasn't the only one doing it!"

Louis' patience finally ran out, making him raise his voice. "That doesn't make it any better, Lottie!"

She cowered immediately and sunk back, falling against the cream-colored stuffed chair, away from the camera of her laptop. "I don't like it here, Lou." Her voice soft and, though faint, Louis heard the quiver in it. "The other girls, they make me do things I don't want to do."

He was suddenly stiff. "Are they forcing you? Hurting you?"

Lottie shook her head. "But they would laugh at me and they'd call me names if I don't do as they do. And then the rest of the class would laugh at me." She leaned forward. "You see? I _have_ to do what they say or they wouldn't let me join their group. I don't want to be the loser girl from a small foreign country that doesn't have friends."

Louis felt his heart clench. There was nothing more he wanted to do than reach out and hug his sister in a tight embrace. He understood the pressure of it all--studying in a foreign country, with no one to rely on but yourself. He was forced into it at a much younger age than Lottie. And while he would have preferred to have his little sister close to him, he knew the importance of a good education and proper training on etiquette and such.

But if she wanted to come home, Louis wouldn't even bat an eyelash before saying _okay_.

"Hey," Louis whispered. Lottie looked up and their blues crashed against each other. "Hang in there, yeah? In time it'll get easier, I promise."

She nodded.

"We can go anywhere you want during holiday break. Anywhere at all."

"I just want to be at home. Can we just stay at home?"

Louis smiled. "Of course, baby girl."

Lottie smiled back, easier now. "So what's this Eleanor said about a boy in the manor?"

Louis rolled his eyes. _Of course, Eleanor had already told her._ "When do you two even talk?" Louis asked in return, looking very annoyed. "I thought mobiles aren't allowed on school days."

She giggled. "I caught her on Omegle the other day."

"What even is an Omegle?"

She laughed. "It's like a chat website, yeah? It's not as famous as Twitter and Facebook so they haven't blocked it here at school yet. Now, don't change the subject, Lou! Who is this boy? Is he cute?"

"Don't get any ideas, young lady. He's too old for you."

Lottie threw her head back in gleeful laughter. "But he's just right for you, is that what you're saying?"

"That's not even remotely close to what I'm saying!"

Lottie is eight years younger than Louis, but they only have each other left in all the world and they would be damned if they didn't spend every breathing moment being open and honest with each other in everything. Lottie knows everything there is to know about Louis; and even though it was hard for her to understand at first, she never judged and just took them as they are. In that way, Lottie can be very mature.

"Eleanor said he's cute. Harry, is it?"

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't really trust Eleanor's judgment when it comes to boys and their cuteness."

Lottie raised a finger. "Ah. _Au contraire_ , her judgment should be very accurate and objective because she doesn't care much for them."

"Don't French me."

She cackled again. Cheeky little shit, Louis thought.

"Come on, Lou. Tell me about this boy!"

"There's nothing to tell much, love. He's an orphan like us. So there's that."

Her face fell. "Oh. That's too bad. What about his other relatives?"

Louis shook his head. "He's left with no one."

"Well, where does he live? Does he have a home? You can't let him leave of he doesn't have a home to go to. That would be cruel, Louis."

Here's another thing about Lottie that has Louis in pieces. She has the most charitable heart. He reckons she got it from their mum. Sometimes when he looks at Lottie, he can almost see their mum in her; it's like she never left.

"Don't you worry! I've asked him to stay and he seemed delighted by it."

Lottie perked. "So I get to meet him when I come home!"

"Of course, sweetheart."

Lottie looked up over the laptop and nodded. Louis knew that one of the teachers has come to remind her that she must end the call now. The academy timed the calls on weekdays when the school's facilities are being used. It is only during weekends when Lottie gets her mobile phone that they get to chatter all they want.

"We're going to the market this Saturday," she said to him. "I will buy Eleanor the pretty hair piece I saw two weeks ago. Don't tell her, okay? It's my Christmas present for her."

Louis crossed his heart, zipped close his lips, threw away the key, raised his right hand and shook his head. "What about my present?"

She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. "Well, I'm not going to tell you that! Oh, oh! How's Taylor? Is Niall taking care of her?"

He nodded. "'Course! Niall's keeping his promise to you, don't worry."

"I should get him something too, yeah?"

"You do that."

"Oh! And Liam too! I like Liam."

"Charlotte, lunch is about to be served. Please say goodbye to your brother." Louis heard from somewhere in the room, and he chuckled.

"Yes, I'm sorry Miss Hammerstein." She returned back down at the screen looking slightly sheepish. "I have to go now."

"I heard, baby. Please, please try to be a good girl. And no more smoking. You're fourteen, for chrissake."

She bobbed her head. "It's one time, I promise. It was gross anyway. I love you Louis."

"I love you too, baby."

He caught her waving before the connection was cut.

\---

Harry and Niall walked beside each other slowly and casually as they made their way to the Manor; Niall leading Louis' horse Vixen by a line and Harry cradling the bouquet of Magnolias Liam had arranged. It was late in the afternoon and the sun was getting ready to set.

He had felt slightly awkward when he was face to face with Liam and Niall together to give Master Louis' instructions. There wasn't anything different about them when he saw them, the same Liam and Niall he'd laughed with and spoken things about in the past few days. But there was something different for Harry now after hearing them be together, after hearing them express their love for each other.

He didn't mention this, of course. He didn't ask. He just didn't bring it up. And he thought that maybe they didn't really notice that there was a change in Harry's knowledge of them. 

Louis met them outside the Manor in his riding boots. After exchanging immediate pleasantries, Louis stroke Vixen's mane and head, whispering affectionate words to the horse. Niall helped him mount the beast, and once he was comfortablly settled, he gestured for Harry to bring him the flowers.

Louis smiled at the arrangement. "Niall, please tell Liam these are lovely and I thank him. I am sure they will love it too, as always."

Niall grinned. "If Liam were here, he'd say that there is no need for thanks, Master Louis. He'd take the most beautiful flowers in the world and bind them for them in a heartbeat."

Louis nodded, solemn. "Thank you."

With a final tip of his hat, Master Louis galloped away.

"Who are the flowers for?" Harry asked once Master Louis has gone far off.

"Master Tomlinson and Lady Tomlinson," Niall answered simply.

"Oh. They're buried in the estate?"

Niall shook his head. "They were cremated and their ashes have been scattered in the lake. It's a ritual for all Tomlinson masters and mistresses who passed away. There are only memorial stones scattered all over the estate to remember them. I don't know if you've noticed, but the large fountain at the entrance is actually a memorial of the first master of the house."

Harry has noticed, actually. Well, he noticed that there was a plate on the side of the fountain with words engraved on it, but he couldn't read so he didn't know what it said. And he also noticed a small cairn with golden scribbles on it at the entrance of The Village. And he also noticed the marble slab with the same golden engraving in the middle of the west garden.

He wondered if any of the stones he'd seen were for Master Louis' parents.

As if reading his mind, Niall suddenly said, "The master and the lady's stones are up there." Harry trained his eyes to where Niall pointed--a protruding cliff over the large lake. "It's a bit of trek to get to, hence the horse. Master Louis would go there on this very day every month with the flowers Liam bundled. He always went by himself, except on the month of July when Miss Lottie would accompany him. But other than that, it was always just him."

"Have you been there?"

Niall nodded. "With Da and Mam and Greg. We go there to pay our respects at the start of every Spring."

"Why every Spring?"

"Da said it was on a rainy Spring day when Master Tomlinson saved his life."

Harry's forehead crumpled with curiosity. "Saved his life?"

Niall chuckled as they started to walk around the Manor to get to the kitchens. "Can you believe my Da used to work for the mafia?"

No, Harry could barely believe that. Niall's dad is all soft eyes and careful smiles, his graying hair short and soft atop his head. His Irish lilt always welcoming and musical whenever he greeted Harry. Him being a member of an organized crime group is the last thing Harry would ever think possible.

"Back in Mullingar, Da was sold by his own brother when he was about sixteen or so to the mafia. They brought him to Dublin, where the headquarters were at. They started him off with the collection of protection money, until they brought him along during a hit. He said it was this guy who refused to pay, so the mafia taught him a lesson that he would never forget."

Niall paused to laugh.

"I didn't get it at first. Greg slapped my head upside one time and told me that Da meant that they killed the guy."

Harry was really not sure how to react to this revelation; and he was even more unsure of how to react to Niall's light and carefree way of storytelling this rather shocking past of his dad--well, at least shocking to Harry.

Niall doesn't seem to notice Harry's discomfort, and proceeded to merrily tell the story of his dad. "So yeah, Da was rather hardcore, I reckon. Killed a whole lot of people, just 'cause he was told to do so. For awhile, he said it didn't matter to him. He never gave them people a second look. Didn't feel pity for them and what-not. All he cared about was that the bosses would be pleased with him, you know? He's got none of a family 'cept his bosses at the mafia, he believed. They fed him, clothed him; they didn't hurt him or nothing. They were really good to him. So, yeah. Guess it wasn't a surprise that he'd do everything they'd tell him to."

Harry was pensive, taking all this information in. It was really difficult to wrap his head around the fact that Niall's dad was once a cold-blooded murderer. "But, uh, you said, Master Louis' father saved your Da's life?"

Niall nodded. "Oi, Ashton! Liam's been looking for ya!" He called to one of the boys that worked in the gardens when they passed by him.

"On my way to him, mate," Ashton hollered back. "Hey, Harry!"

Harry smiled and waved back.

"Da believed they loved him, right? He actually thought they cared about him. 'Course they didn't." Niall continued as if no intermission had taken place. "Them mafia bosses only cared about their own flesh and blood. Da's been a good lad for 'em, but he's no family, yeah? So when he made a mistake, they got downright cruel."

Harry frowned. "What's he done so wrong?"

Niall rubbed his palms and blew a hot breath to warm them before sticking them in his trouser pockets. "He fell in love with me Mam."

Harry's eyes rounded. But what's wrong with falling in love, he thought.

Niall continued, "She couldn't be trusted, they said."

"Why'd they even think that?"

Niall smiled. "Mam's the daughter of the Chief of Police of Dublin."

"Oh."

"Yeah," Niall chuckled. "Crazy, right? Long story short, them bosses found out about me Da and Mam, thought that me Da was a police rat, so they tried to take him out."

Harry's eyes widened. "But they were obviously not successful!"

Niall grinned. "That's where Master Tomlinson comes into the picture, yeah?"

The door to the kitchens were about twenty feet away from them, and Harry can practically smell the herbs on the tomato soup simmering in a pot in there, when Niall stopped them. The sun was setting now, and it cast an almost eerie orange glow on the horizon. Niall turned up to the cliff; Harry mirrored his actions. It was far but Harry can see what Niall saw: the silhouette of a man dismounting a horse. Harry can even make out the bouquet cradled in his arms.

"Da said the day they _invited_ him out for a drive, Master Tomlinson was at the bosses' house." Niall didn't tear his gaze from Master Louis. He sounded much more serious now, the cheerfulness he started off with was completely wiped away. "Master Tomlinson knew of the bosses' illegal activities, but he was there on legitimate business. They owed him much, you know. Master Tomlinson's mother, who was Mistress of the Manor before him, did the old bosses' a huge favor before. This favor was so huge that their gratitude carried on to Master Tomlinson. And for the longest time, the families made good business with each other--all legitimate business."

Harry braved a sideways glance at Niall. The blonde's profile was ethereal against the light from the setting sun. He looked like he was glowing. Up on the cliff, Master Louis was crouched on one knee, head bowed. Harry didn't know if he was praying or cryng.

"Master Tomlinson greeted me Da when they passed by each other--the master coming in and me Da going out. Master Tomlinson asked me Da where he was off to, like he would a friend, you know?" Niall turned to Harry then, his blue eyes a bit glassy. "Da smiled at Master Tomlinson, he said. He just smiled and said he was off for a drive with them blokes behind him. That's all he said and he walked away knowing that was the last time he was gonna see him."

Harry wanted to take Niall in his arms, but before he could even move a finger, Niall was turning back to the cliff. Harry did too, out of impulse, and he saw that the shape of Master Louis has already stood up, but his head was still bowed and he still wasn't moving, the shape of the bouquet already gone.

"It was raining, yeah? Like it almost always does in Ireland." Niall chuckled at that, but it was fleeting and he was back to all seriousness again. "And Da was told to sit in the back of the car, and he's never ever sat in the back before. Only two kinds of people sat in the back, you see, them being served and them about to be killed. Da sure as hell knew he was not being served. But then they weren't leaving. It took a bit of awhile that he just sat there, with the driver up front and one of them blokes sat next to him, who he was about 99% sure was the one who was going to do the honors of taking him out."

Master Louis was back where Vixen stood waiting. Harry could see him gently stroking the horse's head. Even as mere shapes, he could see the affection in the way Master Louis held the beast.

"Then he was told to get out of the car, only to have him enter another car. He knew that this was not any of the bosses' car, but he was alone in it, save for the driver up front, and somehow he said he felt safe. The car rounded from the back of the bosses' mansion to the front, and when the door opened again, Master Tomlinson was getting in. Can you imagine me Da's surprise then?" Harry could see a small smile on Niall's lips from where he stood. "He was dumbfounded--his own words, I tell ya. Here was one powerful man sat next to him and he didn't know why. Said he was so damn baffled he didn't even have the wits to be afraid."

By this time, Master Louis had gone from the cliff and there was nothing left there but air and memorial stones that were too small or low for Harry to make out from where he stood. Niall turned to him and crossed his own arms against his chest, tucking his hands in his pits.

"Master Tomlinson bought his life. He knew me Da was a goner, and he bought his life from the bosses. You know what Master Tomlinson said to me Da in the car?" Niall snorted, but it was the kind that showed fondness rather than contempt. "He said to him, 'you're free, Bobby'. He bought me Da's life and freed him. Just like that."

Niall began walking towards the kitchen again.

"'Course, the bosses wanted him out of Ireland. That was part of the deal. Master Tomlinson gave him money so he could go away."

Harry pushed the door of the kitchen open as Niall continued. "Da grabbed me Mam and they eloped. He ain't never gonna leave without Maura, after all. They went and gone off to Milan, then Barcelona, then London. But they never really felt safe anywhere, you know? Still afraid them Irish goons be looking for them. So they came here."

It was almost dinner time and the kitchens were quite busy, so nobody paid them any mind when they went and sat on the servants' table and Niall grabbed a bun from one of the baskets resting there. Harry watched Niall gnaw on the bread like a donkey, bared teeth and all that. At the same time, he was drinking in the story of Niall's dad and Master Louis' dad.

He remembered Liam's story, and connecting that with Niall's story, there was no doubt in his mind anymore that Master Louis' parents truly were good people, and they were incredibly loved.

As an after thought, he asked, "How much did Master Tomlinson have to pay?"

Niall took a moment to chew and swallow. "Remember I said, them bosses owed a huge favor to the Tomlinsons?"

Harry nodded.

"Well, Master Tomlinson scratched off the debt. He paid a hefty price for the life of a nobody."

Harry shook his head without thinking. "He's not a nobody."

Niall grinned. "That's exactly what Master Tomlinson said to me Da. And me Da said to us, me and Greg, that we owed our lives to the Tomlinsons, 'cause if it weren't for Master Tomlinson, me and Greg wouldn't have been born at all."

Harry was left with no words to say, so he simply smiled at that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have to excuse the indulgent carroty stuff in here. Heh.

Louis typed furiously on his laptop, bringing up the files sent to him from Morocco. Christmas was but five days away and here he was working--stressing, more like it. He was inside his Rolls-Royce, which was arrogantly parked at the curb by the Arrival exit of the international airport (if you're a Tomlinson you're given the rare privilege of parking wherever you want). Lottie's plane from England had already landed and they were just waiting for her to get past immigration. Her nanny, a woman in her late twenties named Danielle, was already inside to assist her with her luggage. Her personal bodyguard/driver Preston was behind the wheel, Louis' only current companion.

"Samir, this was not what we agreed with them. I am not approving this," Louis scolded.

"I'm very sorry, sir. They said this would be more efficient," the man on the other line--Samir--explained. "We would save tonnes of money using this design."

Louis shook his head. "I understand that, but--I mean, look at this! Are you even seeing what they did here? The beams are smaller, the in-walls are slimmer; for chrissake, they've lowered the electrical wirings! What if it floods? Everyone in the damn hotel will die of electrocution! No, this is not acceptable at all. My hotel will not be a death trap, you hear me?"

Samir was still talking on the other line, trying to convince Louis that his fears were ungrounded, when Preston perked up and pressed forward at the windshield.

"I think that's them, sir," he said excitedly. Preston has been Lottie's personal security since she was practically a baby, and he's been the only father-figure she's ever really had. Louis was thankful for Preston, he helped him raise Lottie.

Louis leered to have a good look, and it was when Preston was getting out of the car that he saw his sister clad in a bright red coat, dirty blond hair messy underneath a matching bright red hat. "I'll have to call you back, Samir. My sister's here."

"Of course, sir. Please send Miss Lottie my regards and that we all miss her here at The Palace."

Louis expressed his thanks and immediately turned off his mobile. He got out of the car in time to meet his sister as she flung herself to him.

"Louis!" she shrieked in palpable glee.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the ground, her own arms almost suffocating his airflow as she wrung them around his neck. "Welcome home, baby girl," he greeted softly.

"I miss you so much," she muffled against the fabric of his coat.

"Miss you too, sweetheart."

It's only been four months since they last saw each other, but it did feel too long. It always feels too long. The truth is, they probably should be used it--being away from each other. They grew up that way, after all. Louis went to school in England too, from his preparatory years up to university, and the whole time, Lottie was at home. During all those years, it was Lottie who waited for Louis. Now, their roles have reversed.

"The snow in London is already very thick!" she reported. "Dani said it just started snowing yesterday here."

Louis nodded. "Uh huh. Were you able to make snow angels before you left the academy?"

Her face twisted sourly. "No. They'd laugh at me if I did. Girls there said it was child's play to make snow angels."

Louis' eyebrows knitted and he pursed his lips. He's really beginning to find those girls at Lottie's school extremely annoying. "Well of course, it's child's play! Doesn't mean it's not fun!"

"Ugh! I know right? They're so stupid," Lottie agreed.

He couldn't help the fond smirk forming on his lips. He knew then that he didn't have to worry about his sister. She can definitely hold her own. "We'll make snow angels at home," Louis offered.

"And snow men too!"

Louis laughed. "Of course! Now get in the car before we both freeze to death."

She rolled her eyes and quipped, "Are you joking? I think I'm overdressed for our weather if I'm being honest. I'm sweating like a pig in here."

He pushed her playfully towards the car, laughing at her cheekiness. Danielle had already taken to her seat in front and Preston was jogging from the trunk--where he'd stored Lottie's luggage--to his place at the head of the vehicle, when Lottie got into the Rolls-Royce. Louis was at the opened door, waiting for his sister to scoot over so he could enter, when his eyes were drawn to the Arrival exit.

There was quite a rush of people at the time. Many of Carlton's sons and daughters have come home for the holidays, as was the norm every year. There were also many who came to the airport to welcome their families and friends, some of whom are coming back and some of whom are landing to Carlton for the first time. So it was slightly disconcerting that among the throng of bodies in the place that day, he zoomed into that one person he didn't think he'd see for a long time. That one person he didn't think he even wanted to see at all.

He was as lovely as he was the last time Louis saw him two years ago, when he kissed Louis goodnight and bathed him with a loving gaze from those painfully beautiful amber eyes. There he was now clad in a black trench coat. His hair was shorter now, but it still had his signature quiff and still as dark as the night. The short stubble he used to sport on his face was now thicker--messier, if Louis was being honest. He seemed taller as well, or maybe just thinner so that there was an illusion that his body was vertically longer.

Whatever changes Louis could perceive in his appearance, the one thing that remained the same was his commanding presence. He was still so strikingly beautiful that people would stop to stare at him just to see if he was real. He still parted the crowd like Moses did with the Red Sea when he walked through it.

And it took his sister's impatient call to snap him out of his trance. "Louis, come on! What are you looking at?"

He looked down at Lottie, who was peering up at him with an eyebrow raised questioningly. "I just--" he began, but then looked again to where he saw him. He was already getting into a taxi. He didn't see Louis at all.

"Lou, let's go home!"

"Right. Right, sorry," he muttered as he scrambled into the car.

The whole ride home, he was distracted by the thought of the boy--now undoubtedly a man--who came back. The boy he'd lost a long time ago. The boy he gave his heart to--the one person he dared give his heart to--and broke it.

It was only when Lottie finally called him out on it, asking him in the concerned way she did when she can sense that something was amiss, that he finally shoved the thought of him away. He felt guilty thinking about another person when his sister was right here with him. His sister who deserved all his attention because she loved him as much as he loved her. His sister who he knew was the only one worthy of his time, his attention, and his love. So he shoved the thought of that boy away with so much force that it would have an extremely difficult time finding its way back.

And for awhile the boy--man--didn't cross his mind. There was too much joy to focus on, after all. 

Lottie's arrival at the Manor brought so much life back to the usually somber large house. Alfred and Mrs. Cole were ecstatic to have her home (Louis was sure they liked Lottie better than him, but he couldn't possibly take offense;  _he_  liked Lottie better than himself). Eleanor had finished all her chores early that day so that she could welcome Lottie home, and when they saw each other, it was ridiculous. They were screeching like mad, Louis doesn't even know whatever that was all about--they just spoke on the phone yesterday. Liam lifted her in his arms and swung her around once, as she always liked.

Harry was there too, waiting with the rest of them at the driveway. He was quiet, as he always was, but the wide smile on his face gave away his excitement. For the past month, Louis felt as though Harry grew calmer around him. He grew more accustomed to life at the estate as well. Harry worked in the kitchens now, after Mrs. Cole said that Harry had a knack for the culinary arts. And indeed, Louis had been impressed by the boy's skills after having tried a couple of dishes Harry had personally served him.

Even though Harry was illiterate, he had quite the memory when it comes to instructions given to him. He remembers the chronology of how a recipe should be implemented and when ingredients should be added in a dish. He's learned to read numbers on the oven and the measuring cups and spoons. He's learned to read labels in cans and plastic bags.

And apparently, Harry was fierce in the kitchen. He was very strict and specific in the procedure of preparing the food. Eleanor was laughing hysterically when she recounted that one time when Niall thought it was a good idea to mess with Harry's process. 

Niall had playfully dipped a chicken breast into a sheet of breading long before the cooking oil was hot enough for frying, and Harry went ballistic, impulsively roaring, "get out of my kitchen", which had the entire room fall into awkward silence. Niall shirked away, legitimate fear flashing in his eyes. Eleanor too was quite frightened, she said. Nobody's ever seen Harry so angry before, they didn't think it was even possible.

Later on, when the chicken had been cooked properly, and it was ready to be served to Louis and his business partners who came for dinner that night, Harry ran to Niall's house crying and apologizing for screaming at him. And Louis became even more fond of Harry than he already was.

When Lottie came face to face with Harry, they both had a polite smile on their faces. Lottie curtsied and introduced herself like a lady, telling him, "I'm very happy to meet you Mr. Harry."

Harry looked bashful at being called Mister. Louis realized that the boy was probably never going to be used to being regarded with such gentlemanly respect. "It's very nice to meet you too, Miss Lottie."

"You can call me Lottie if you want."

Harry shook his head. "A young miss like you should be called Miss Lottie at all times. But I would be happy if you just call me Harry, okay?"

Lottie grinned and nodded. Then her eyes caught the fact that Harry's hands were behind him. She looked up at Harry with curiousity. "What you got there?"

It was Harry's turn to grin. He pulled the object into view as he said, "I've got you a present to welcome you home, Miss."

Lottie's eyes grew so wide with excitement, Louis was afraid they were going to pop right out of their sockets. It was a crown made of braided leaves and freshly picked flowers. "I love it, Harry!" she exclaimed, as she took the crown from him.

"Really?" Harry replied happily.

Lottie nodded before taking her hat off and perching the crown atop her head.

"I made it myself," Harry said proudly, and Louis reminded him of a child.

She looked up at him, skeptical. "I could've sworn Liam made me one of these for a school program when I was younger."

Harry's cheeks burned. "Well, I put the flowers myself after Liam braided the leaves together."

"It's true," Liam affirmed, to which Harry turned to him with a grateful smile.

"I believe you, Harry," Lottie said, moving in and giving Harry a tight hug. "Thank you."

Harry was slightly surprised at the gesture, but he melted into her touch easily and gave her a gentle hug back. When Harry looked up, Louis' eyes met his for a moment, and Louis gave him a reassuring smile and an approving nod.

Louis spent the rest of the afternoon working in the Manor's study room that day, while Lottie spent it meeting with his old friends in The Village in the company of Eleanor, Harry, Danielle, Liam and Niall, who they met at the stables when she insisted on seeing her horse Taylor. At dinner, he and Lottie were joined by Danielle, Harry and Eleanor, much to Alfred's consternation (he was very strict towards Eleanor because he didn't want his daughter to be too comfortable to the end that she might forget her place in the Manor; Louis understood Alfred's position, but it was Lottie's first day back from school and it had been her personal request, so Louis insisted). It was the liveliest dinner he's had in so long.

That night though, when everyone had retreated to their quarters to retire for the day and silence finally enveloped the whole house, Louis was left alone with his thoughts again. The telly was showing Lady and the Tramp, and Louis was just staring at the screen as the dogs started feeding off the spaghetti in the back alley.

They will end up eating the same long piece of spaghetti, Louis thought almost-bitterly, and then they will kiss. He watched as the animated dogs did as he knew they would, and when they did kiss, Louis let out a condescending snort.

Typical, he thought. Dogs falling in love in the streets of America and living happily ever after, while here he was alone in his large bed. It seems the universe favors animated dogs than real people like him.

He sighed. He's thought aplenty of stupid thoughts before, but he reckons being bitter over animated dogs is up there with the worst. ****  


\---

Harry's half-in-love with Miss Lottie. Well, all right, Harry's half-in-love with everyone in the estate. But Miss Lottie seems to have made it her mission to get to know Harry more than anyone did in the whole island. In the past two days she's been home, she would seek his company whenever Master Louis must be left alone to do some work. And when Harry was to be in the kitchen to prepare her and Master Louis' meals, she would keep to the kitchen so she could stay near him, sitting quietly on the servants' table and doing her homework assignment for the long holidays.

One afternoon, while he and Miss Lottie were in the living area, where she was showing him photos of this British boyband called Wonder Action on her laptop, she caught him mouthing silently the huge words smacked in the middle of one boys' shirts he's seen repeatedly in different photos.

"Jack Wills," Lottie said.

Harry turned to her, a bit surprised.

"Barry's shirts say Jack Wills."

"Oh."

"They like it for some reason. See? Here, Kyle has a Jack Wills hoodie on. Here, Ian and Wayne are wearing shirts with JW on it--that's Jack Wills too. And in this one, Huey and Barry are wearing Jack Wills. Mostly, it's Barry who wears them."

Harry smiled and pulled away from the laptop, leaning against the backrest of the sofa. "Maybe he's friends with Jack."

Lottie turned to him and giggled. "I don't think so. But maybe one day, he will be. When they're world famous and all that."

"Aren't they famous now?"

"Not as much as JLS or even The Wanted. But, I think they're getting there. They're very good singers."

Harry nodded and Miss Lottie returned to her laptop screen. He watched silently as she typed and every so often traced her finger on the pad there. He tried to read what was on the screen but the letters were too small and there were much too many words sometimes that it made him dizzy.

"Harry," she asked before turning to him. "You can't read much, can you?"

He dipped his head, embarrassed. Nobody's asked him directly about it since Eleanor last did--and he was plenty ashamed when he had to admit that he can't read or write.

And then, everyone else just already knew, but they never brought it up. They just never asked him to read anything on purpose. And when Mrs. Cole was just starting to teach him to cook, she would tell him, "get the red can on top of the shelf, the one that says Heinz Mean Beanz on it," and he learned what  _Heinz Mean Beanz_  looked like so that if he saw _Heinz_  in the supermarket shelves but it didn't have  _Mean Beanz_  written below it on the can, he knew it's a different thing. Harry didn't mind, though. He didn't mind that every person he spoke with already knew he was illiterate. He was actually thankful about that because he didn't have to be awkward about saying it when they ask him to read something. So, it threw him off when Miss Lottie nonchalantly brought it up.

"Would you like me to teach you some?"

He looked at her and was met with a warm smile.

"I know you can read a little bit; but if you want, I can teach you to read a little bit more."

Slowly, a smile formed on his face. He gave her a small nod, which she returned with a wide grin. She turned back to her laptop and began typing again. Harry waited patiently, occasionally chancing a glance at the eager face of the girl. Nobody's offered to teach him to read before, not even the new friends he found here at the estate. He never took it against them, of course. He knew that everyone was quite busy with their own tasks and families and living their own lives.

"Here," Lottie said, moving back against the sofa, closer to Harry, and placing the laptop between them. "Do you know the alphabet?"

"N-no. Not all of them. I know that's A," Harry said pointing to the screen.

"It is! Anything else?"

His shoulders slumped. "No, that's it."

"Hey, that's okay. You'll learn all of them before you go make dinner. I promise you that."

And he did. He was singing the alphabet song as he stirred the beef stew.

Lessons with Miss Lottie didn't end with the alphabet. She had her old nursery rhyme books brought out from storage for Harry. Every afternoon, when there was nothing to do, they would read together books that were really meant for toddlers. And when they couldn't hold lessons in the afternoons, they would do so before bedtime.

Word got out quickly that Harry was learning to read; Miss Lottie made sure of this. She would boast of Harry's progress to all staff members of the Manor, and to Liam and Niall. She would even boast about Harry to her own brother.

\---

The day before Christmas was Master Louis' birthday. There was no grand celebration for him turning twenty-two, at least not in his own estate. He didn't want it, Eleanor had told Harry. He didn't feel the need for such a grandiose gathering. The executives of Tomlinson Group of Companies held a dinner party every year for him, though. Master Louis had told them repeatedly that they really didn't have to, but they always seem to think that it was some sort of hint that he wanted the party. 

The birthday dinner was different from the Christmas party for the employees. The attendants of the birthday dinner were all important people in the numerous corporations that Master Louis owned, and it was a little bit more intimate and much too formal.

On the morning of Master Louis' birthday, Miss Lottie came rushing into the stables in her nightgown underneath her winter jacket, her feet warmed by Ugg boots. Harry was helping Niall feed the horses and ensuring that they were warm enough during the cold weather. He still spent his mornings with Niall, as was always been how it was since he got to the estate.

"Harry!" she breathed sharply.

"Good morning, Miss Lottie," Harry and Niall greeted in unpracticed chorus.

"Hi, Niall," she said, and then went back to Harry. "Come, we shall go to the city this morning."

"To the supermarket?" Harry asked hopefully.

She shook her head. "Fuller Road."

Fuller Road was one of the shopping districts of Carlton City. It was a strip of shops and boutiques where the rich frequent to satisfy their fashion requirements. Harry had passed by it several times when he went grocery shopping with Mrs. Cole (this was his duty now, to Eleanor's relief), but never needed to stop. He was sure there was nothing in there that he would be able to afford anyway.

"We need to get you a suit," said Miss Lottie.

Harry pursed his lips in confusion. "What for?"

"Come away, Harry. I'll tell you on the walk back to the Manor. We need to leave as soon as we could.

They both bid farewell to Niall and proceeded with the trek back to the Manor.

"Miss Lottie, why should I need a suit?"

She grinned at him. "It's Louis' birthday today, do you know?"

He nodded. "Of course, Miss! I have baked him a birthday cake for lunch later," he declared proudly. Harry was very excited at this because here was a gift he had for Master Louis that he'd done all by himself, without Eleanor or Liam or anybody's help. He woke up extra early today to bake it.

Her eyes widened. "Can I see it, Harry? Please?"

He chuckled. "It's not done. The cake is still cooling. Later, I'll put the icing on. You can help me if you want."

"I do, I do! So we must leave now, yeah? So we could get back in time."

Harry asked again why he needed to get a suit.

"You shall come to Louis' dinner party thing with us tonight! It's a formal, so we'll get you a tuxedo, I reckon. You should look mighty dapper in one."

Harry felt his cheeks warm. "But..."

"Don't worry, I've asked Louis. He said it was alright. But we need you to look nice for it." Miss Lottie quickly looked up at him to clarify, "Nicer. Nicer than you already look. You always look nice, Harry."

He shook his head. "Oh, Miss Lottie. They will stare and scoff. I don't--"

"Harry! You're my favorite! I will be there and Louis will be there. And you shall be with us. And if you're with us, no one will dare be mean to you." She clapped her hands once. "And besides, when I'm done with you, everyone will stare for all the right reasons."

Harry never thought that shopping would be so exhausting. He's tried on a hundred different pieces of clothing in practically every store in the strip and turned for Miss Lottie for ages, it seems, before they finally bought the navy blue pinstripe suit at the second store they entered that morning. Miss Lottie took him to buy shoes afterwards, with much the same laborious process. Afterwards, he was pulled into a hair salon, where a man with spikey blonde and purple hair washed and trimmed his curly locks.

They got back to the Manor in time for lunch, much to Harry's dismay. He couldn't possibly finish with the cake now, so he didn't have a choice but to present it to Master Louis later on in the day. Miss Lottie no longer had the free time to help with the decorating because she was to prepare for the dinner party tonight, so he laboured on the cake by himself that afternoon.

At about six in the evening, the door of his bedroom flew open without warning, summarily announcing Eleanor's arrival. Harry was in front of the mirror wearing the whole three-piece ensemble minus the jacket, fiddling with the untied bow around his neck.

"Harold," Eleanor gasped. "You look handsome!"

Harry blushed and dipped his head. "No, I don't."

Eleanor was in front of him in an instant, slapping his hands away from the tie, and started to properly loop the ends to make a perfect bow around his neck. "Yes, you do, Harry! Very dapper!"

"Thanks," he resigned sheepishly.

"There you go." Eleanor tapped the middle of his chest before stepping back to eye him better. "Let's see you with the jacket on."

Harry complied, buttoning it close. "I look ridiculous," he concluded.

She nodded. "Ridiculously gorgeous."

He laughed at that.

"Are you excited? Your first formal, I believe?"

"I think...I think I'm more nervous than excited." He looked at her warily. "What am I supposed to do there anyway?"

Eleanor shot her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, love. You just go and be your pretty self." She walked further into the room and threw herself on the mattress, feet dangling on one side. "Miss Lottie has always brought one of the servants at those things. I've been to two, Dani's been to about four, and Niall and Liam had each been to Master Louis' birthday dinner as well. She's very fond of you right now and wants to be in your company as much as she could while she still has the time, that's why she chose you. Don't over-think it. Just go and enjoy."

Harry went and sat at the edge of the bed in a way that he'd be looking directly at Eleanor without having to strain himself. "I don't know why she likes me. I mean, I love Miss Lottie. I'm just surprised why she's taken a liking to me."

Eleanor sat and tucked her feet underneath her thighs. She reached for Harry and rubbed his arm gently. "Sweetheart, if you haven't noticed, you've already won the entire estate over. Miss Lottie is no different."

Before Harry could even respond, she was already jumping off the mattress and pulling him up. "Now come on, then. I came here with a purpose and that is to deliver you to the Tomlinsons for tonight's ball, Mister Styles. Tonight, you are no servant. Tonight, you are a prince."

And then he was whisked away to his awaiting chariot.

\---

Louis sighed as he  straightened his tie in front of the mirror.

"Alfred, do I really look like a pompous son of a bitch?"

The butler's eyebrows shot up as he eyed his master through the reflector.

"Excuse the language, will you?" Louis quickly said upon meeting the older man's gaze.

"Sire, I'm certain they don't see you that way."

"Why, then, do they always feel the need to throw this party every year, when I've so clearly and desperately begged them not to?"

Alfred smiled; smirked is more like it. "They mean well, I suppose."

Louis frowned at him. "You say that every year."

"You whine every year."

Louis' frown turned into a scowl, but not at all ill at the retort he received. He was used to Alfred being this way. And, really, he liked it. The old man may be under his payroll, but he's all Louis has left as a father-figure; and he thought he might be very lucky in that aspect because Alfred loves him. Louis knows it. Louis feels it every day. And he couldn't be more grateful.

Alfred opened a wide box lined with velvet in front of Louis. He studied the many cufflinks there until he found the one for the suit he was wearing that night and gracefully put them on. "I feel tired, Alfred. I feel tired and old and worn out."

"I'm sixty-two, Master Louis. If you wish to play the pity game, I suggest you use a different card, as i will beat you four times over when we speak of age."

Louis laughed then. Really laughed. It was the first time he had that sense of abandon and carefree feeling this day--his birthday.

A heartbeat later, Lottie entered his room, beautiful in a short blue-green strapless dress with a puffy skirt, hair loosely braided and falling in front of one shoulder.

"You look very lovely, Miss Lottie."

Lottie smiled and curtsied at the butler. "Thank you, very kind sir." Then she threw her arms around Louis' waist. "Let's go," stretching the last word, excitement so very obvious in her tone.

Louis chuckled as he forced his sister gently off of him. "Are you seriously excited to go to this party?"

She grinned up at him. "I'm quite famished, if I'm being honest, and they always have good food there. Plus, I can't wait for everyone to meet Harry!"

He quirked a brow. "Oh so, that's why you wanted to bring Harry. Showing him off, are you?"

Her eyebrows furrowed, in turn; she crossed her arms in front of her chest. "He's not a thing, Louis. I just thought Harry would like to go to a fancy dinner party. He's never been, you know."

He nodded. He figured Harry's never been to one such a gathering. Louis ought to be worried about bringing Harry along. The boy's never had training on etiquette and he's never been exposed to something so grand that it might overwhelm him. But really, the worst thing that could happen was for Harry to sit still at their designated table and do nothing.

As they--Louis, Lottie and Alfred--climbed down the stairs to get to the front door, where the Limousine that would take them to the city was waiting on the other side, Lottie bolted ahead of them. He heard the cheerful noise she made as he neared the foyer.

"You look great, Harry!"

"Thank you, Miss," the boy replied meekly.

There was a sound of palms clapping before Eleanor exclaimed,  _Capital job, Miss_ , followed by a giggle that was undoubtedly Lottie's.

When he rounded the corner, the first thing that caught his eye was the wide back of a man in a deep blue jacket. His eyes next fell to the perfectly-fitted trousers over such skinny legs.

"Louis! Look at Harry!" It was Lottie, he knew, but his eyes refused to tear away from boy in the suit. "Turn around for Louis. Let him see you!"

It was incredibly surreal how slowly the boy turned to face him, eyelids fluttering to meet his gaze, a shy smile on naturally pink lips. Lottie  _had_  done a capital job. Harry looked spiffy in his clothes, but his hair in a slightly messy quiff gave him a bit of an edgy look. Louis' heartbeat might have skipped, but no one needed to know that.

"Well? What do you think?" Lottie asked, filled with pride at what she's done.

Louis was finally able to tear his eyes from Harry to face his sister. "Very well done, love." He returned to Harry, who now has his head bowed to hide the blush on his pale cheeks. "Hadn't recognized young Harry for a second there."

There was a moment of silence where Louis kept his eyes trained on the boy, Harry looking very sheepish and Lottie basking in the glory of her achievement. But it all soon ended when Eleanor clapped her hands. 

"You lot should be off now! The party's guest of honor is only given a leeway to be fashionably late. Anything beyond that is severely impolite. Go on, then!" She gently pushed Lottie and Harry out the front door, turning back to give Louis a cursory wink. "Besides," she continued in a much softer tone but audible nonetheless, "we don't want Harrry to melt into a puddle, what with how some people are staring at him."

Louis shot her a scowl, which did not produce the intended effect. Before he could descend from the top landing of the front steps, Eleanor held him by the shoulders, and with no regard for the already-furious glare her father was giving her, gave Louis a huge kiss on the cheek--one that ended with a loud smacking sound. "Happy 22nd birthday, Master Louis," she murmured against his ear after she leaned in to wrap him around her skinny arms.

"Thank you, El," he replied, tone sincere; arms lifting to return the embrace. There was a hint of lemon to Eleanor's scent; one that had stuck to her hair from some cleaning product she had used recently, no doubt. It relaxed Louis.

Eleanor had always been the most important girl in his life after his sister. Sometimes he would think that maybe he's a little bit in love with her. His life would be less complicated, he supposed, if he could just be with her. He already knows how much she loves him. But when he'd muse on these things out loud, Eleanor would always sigh and swoop in for a cuddle, saying, "I wish that too. If I had swung that way, you know I'd choose you."

A heavy hand on his shoulder was what caused them to part. "Happy birthday, sire," Alfred said when Louis faced him.

"Thanks, Alfred."

"Now run along, son. Enjoy your party."

And Louis wanted to cry. Once in a blue moon Alfred would call him  _son_  out of nowhere, and it goes straight to his heart. It would never be the same as when his own dad used to say it, and he knew that Alfred knew it too, but if there was one person in all the world who he would allow to call him that, it would be Alfred.

Louis gave the old man a quick hug, thanking him, before he was heading for the Limousine to join Lottie and Harry.

The drive to the city was pleasant. Lottie chatted away for the most part of the trip. It wasn't unusual since she's mostly the one with so much to tell--mostly about school and her favorite boyband, whose name Louis could never seem to remember. Harry was very attentive to her, as if he's taking all of her stories to heart. Asking clarificatory questions even, which only spurred Lottie's chatty demeanor.

Louis could see that his sister's slowly developing a bit of a crush on Harry; and maybe Harry's already developed his own crush on Lottie, if the fond gaze he's affording her is an indication. Then again, he's also seen that same expression on Harry when he's looking at Eleanor. And Niall. And Liam. And Mrs. Cole. Maybe Harry just adores everyone.

When they got to The Mansion, a man in his late fifties, with pale white skin and graying hair was stood by the massive double doors of the hotel. Snow was gently falling and a gentle chill was abundant in the air, but he, and a boy about Lottie's age, stood patiently, waiting for the Limousine doors to open.

Louis was the first to step out into the cold, and immediately, the man stepped forward to shake his hand.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Tomlinson."

He smiled at the man as he took the offered hand. "Thank you, Mr. Ryan."

The boy who had stood quietly beside Mr. Ryan came rushing to the door to take Lottie's hand and assist her out of the car.

"Martin!"

"You look beautiful tonight, Lottie," Martin said as he encircled his arms around her shoulders, sighing gently at the feel of the girl against his chest.

Harry peeked from inside the Limousine, unable to get out due to the blockage caused by Lottie and Martin still hugging. Louis cleared his throat loudly then, effectively disturbing the cuddling teens.

"You might want to move, love," Louis suggested, tilting his head towards Harry.

"Oh!" Lottie pushed herself away from Martin and turned to her invited guest. "I'm so sorry, Harry," she said, Martin suddenly forgotten. Louis noted the boy's frown at that.

Harry stumbled out of the car, his long legs getting caught at the edge of the entrance. "I-it's quite alright, Miss."

"Come, Harry," she said, hooking her hand on the inside of his elbow, "I want you to meet someone."

Martin was considerably shorter than Harry, even when he straightened his back to the the stiff stance he was sporting once the curly-haired stranger bent the arm Lottie had latched on to and covered his hand onto hers. But Martin was rich and proud, and while Harry can easily hold Martin by the head to keep the younger boy from touching him, Harry still looked liked a frightened kitten clutching onto Lottie like his life depended on it.

"Harry, this is Martin. He's my very best friend," Lottie began, rubbing the back of Harry's hand with her free hand, speaking carefully as if it was directed to a child. She had obviously sensed his discomfort. "Martin, this is Harry. He's the new member of our household."

Immediately, all stiffness rolled off Martin. Louis' known Martin since he was a toddler, watched him grow up with Lottie. So he knew that Martin was a very jealous boy when it came to Lottie. Martin never liked it when Lottie's attention was on other boys; he never liked it when other boys showed interest in her beyond what's normal. But while Martin was a protective and somewhat spoiled boy, he was raised by his father--Mr. Ryan--to be humble and kind, especially to people who served them. And by association, people who served the Tomlinsons.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harry," Martin greeted with a hand outstretched.

Lottie beamed and pulled away from Harry so he could take Martin's offered hand. Although sheepish, Harry shook hands with the younger boy. "T-the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Martin."

"Lovely," Louis exclaimed from where he stood next to Mr. Ryan. "Let's continue with the pleasantries inside, shall we? I'm freezing my balls off in this weather."

Mr. Ryan's laugh was loud and deep, something Louis' always associated with how Santa Claus sounded. The man would have been an excellent Santa had he been a little bit rounder. Mr. Ryan worked for his father since before Louis was born, and was acting CEO since Louis was fifteen, when the CEO elected after his father's death had died, up until he graduated from University and took over the position himself just over a year ago.  Mr. Ryan, in turn was made COO of Tomlinson Group of Companies and remained to be the highest officer there, practically equal to Louis' position.

Short introductions were made between Harry and Mr. Ryan as they all walked to the main ballroom where the party was already in full swing. When the double doors of the room opened, his arrival was announced to people who had obviously been forewarned of their arrival and were standing about facing the doors. A sea of clapping and cheering and smiling faces greeted Louis, and while he still didn't want this extravagant party, he couldn't help but smile gratefully at all the officers and executives that worked for him.

When he made the traditional speech in front of this group of about a hundred people, he thanked them for coming and for helping him run the conglomerate. He spoke about how his parents had always told him that they were the reason for the success of the Tomlinson Group of Companies; how he was taught about trusting the people who worked for them; how he was taught about loving the people who helped him run the companies. Louis said that when he followed his father's advice of trusting them, they didn't let him down; and for that, he was grateful. He closed by saying that he hoped they knew how much he loved them and that they were all family to him.

Another hour had passed before Louis was finally able to get back to their table, only to find Harry alone and picking at half a slice of dark cherry chocolate cake in front of him.

"Do you not like it?" Louis quipped as he flopped himself on the seat next to Harry.

Harry jumped, startled at having company. Louis wondered how long he was sat there by himself. "O-oh, Master L-Louis. No. I mean, I do, I like it very much. I just... I don't want to finish it up too soon because I... um..."

Louis chuckled. "You can get another slice if you like it that much. It's okay, you know. I'm pretty sure there's a whole cake we can take home if you want us to."

Harry had that blush creep up his cheeks again, the one that Louis' come to find so endearing. "No," he said quietly, his chin touching his chest.

"I thought you liked it."

"Do you like this flavor?"

Louis thought for a moment and nodded. "Who doesn't like chocolate, right?"

Harry nodded. "Do you like caramel in your chocolate cake?"

"Sure. Love caramel!"

Harry grinned, suddenly excited, shyness melting away. "Yeah? Do you prefer vanilla or chocolate icing?"

"Chocolate icing on chocolate cake is the thing, innit?"

The younger boy's face fell instantly and Louis somehow felt a sudden panic creeping on him. He couldn't be absolutely certain, but he was sure that was one of the worst things he's seen in a while--Harry getting sad about something.

"Of course," Harry mumbled.

"What is it? Did I say something wrong, Harry?" Louis found himself inching to the edge of his seat, moving closer to the other boy, about to raise an arm to wrap around his shoulders--but he was able to stop himself and rest his hand on top of Harry's chair instead.

Harry shook his head slightly. "I just. I made a mistake."

"What--It's alright. Whatever it is, I'm sure we can fix it."

Harry shook his head again, burying his face in hands, sighing heavily. "No. It's done."

Louis couldn't help his eyebrows from pulling in the middle. He was becoming increasingly worried now. What travesity could Harry have done that he looked so sad and disappointed in himself? It was all Louis could do to hold himself back from leaning even closer and wrapping his arm around Harry's shoulder, his chest flushed against the other boy's arm.

"Hey, come on now." Louis pulled Harry's hands from his face and made him look at him. "What is it, Harry? What happened?"

Glassy green eyes met his own and for a second Louis thought about kissing the pout off the boy's lips.

"I put vanilla icing on your birthday cake," Harry whispered.

Louis paused, not sure if he even heard him correctly. Pulling back, he finally found his reply. "What?"

Harry tucked his chin deeper against his chest. "'M sorry. I thought white would make the flowers and the letters pop more," Louis barely caught him saying.

Truly, Harry was this close to shedding a tear, which Louis didn't want, of course. But he marveled at the boy for a moment, a fond smile making its way to his lips. Harry had made him a birthday cake.  The boy had made him a chocolate cake, he assumed, with a caramel center and vanilla icing--decorated with flowers.

It's not as though it was the first time anyone in the household has made him a cake. Every year, Mrs. Cole baked him a cake for his birthday. Every. Year. This is the first time someone other than Mrs. Cole made his cake. Perhaps he ought to have noticed that there was no cake served to him during lunch, as was the annual tradition, but he was too preoccupied with work that it had slipped his mind. Just as well, he wouldn't have asked about it even if he noticed because traditions such as these matter very little to him--it was everyone else surrounding him who seem to care so much about his birthday.

"Harry," Louis started, leaning closer to speak directly to the boy's ear, draped with stray curls that had not been erected as part of the quiff. "I've never had a vanilla icing cake for my birthday before. I'm excited to see it. I'm sure it looks lovely, and it must taste incredible."

The young servant didn't look at him, but the corner of his lips that was visible to Louis perked a little, and then a lot, until Louis could see the glint of teeth. Certain that he had appeased Harry, Louis rewarded the boy with a gentle and friendly pat on the back.

"What happened?"

Louis looked up and was met with Lottie's concerned face, Martin's chest pressed against her back, a hand snaked around her waist in a possessive grip. Louis liked Martin, and though their marriage had already been arranged for when they both turn eighteen, he didn't particularly approve that they would be so...close in public. It wasn't proper behaviour for a lady and her gentleman of a husband-to-be.

Arranged marriages are a tradition in the Tomlinson family. Sometimes the union does break because they just don't get along, such a thing has happened to his uncle (younger brother of Louis' dad) and his first wife. But sometimes they do work and love does blossom. Louis' own parents, the perfect example of it.

"Nothing. Harry got rather lonely when you two left him by himself here." Louis was absently rubbing Harry's hunched back.

Harry's head shot up to glare horrifyingly at Louis before turning to look up at Lottie and Martin. "No, sir. It's not...Miss Lottie, Mister Martin, I wasn't..."

Louis has a bit of playfulness in him sometimes. He liked to tease people whose reactions he found so very entertaining. And lately, Harry has proved to be most entertaining.

"He was so sad eating this lovely cake by himself when I found him." Louis' voice was overly somber that it was so comical, but between the four of them, it seemed that only Martin was catching on--Louis saw him suppressing a grin. "And then I came and sat here to accompany him and he was just utterly bored out of his mind."

"What?" Harry turned to look at him again. "No! I wasn't--I wasn't bored! I wasn't! I love...having you around Master Louis. All the time. I do. I--"

  
_Well, shit._  A tear actually escaped from the corner of Harry's left eye, sliding slowly down his cheek, dropping from his chin and disappearing in the darkness of his trouser leg. And Louis did not see this coming at all! It was just a joke! 

Harry quickly wiped his face with a large hand just as Lottie went, "Oh, Harry. Don't cry," sitting on the vacant chair on the other side of Harry.

The young servant turned to Lottie and forced a smile, shaking his head. "I'm not. It just slipped, Miss Lottie. I'm sorry."

"Louis was just joking, Harry. He does it all the time. You know that. He's a little shit."

Harry coughed a laugh, and Louis felt instantly better at the sound of it.

Picking up on the improved air Lottie created, Louis retorted, "First of all, watch your language, young lady." Martin was properly sniggering now. "Second of all, I'm highly affronted at being called little."

"Oh, sorry," she deadpanned. "Harry, you know he's a large manure."

Martin didn't hold back then; were it not for the loud music, his laughter would've rung through the entire ballroom. Harry covered his face with both hands, but the shaking of his shoulders gave away the fact that he was laughing. Louis was relieved, choosing to just smile at Lottie as a secret signal between them of...Louis didn't know, exactly...of thanks?

Louis wasn't certain why he ought to be thankful at all. It was such a shallow thing to make a fuss of. It's not like he was being outright rude at Harry, he was simply being playful. And it wasn't even anything mean. Louis was making fun of  _himself_ , not Harry.  He couldn't put a finger on why Harry would be so sad at something so very trivial.

Nonetheless, Louis cannot deny that his heartstrings tugged relentlessly at seeing Harry cry. Louis had a nagging urge to wrap his arms around the younger, albeit bigger than him, boy and kiss the tears he helped create from those lovely green eyes. It was all very confusing to Louis, but tonight was not the night to dwell on it.

He left the table again when he was fetched by Mr. Ryan to meet some "very important people," as Mr. Ryan had referred to them. And indeed, they were. It seems that the governor of a nearby province, New Ritz, had arrived and Louis, while being the guest of honor in his own birthday party, must welcome the old man as one of the companies he owns had then just recently obtained the project for the construction of a new townhall in the province.

When the time came that it was polite to excuse himself from the company of Mr. Ryan, the governor and his very young new wife (who kept eyeing him lustfully from across the rectangular table and on a couple of occasions stroke his leg with her bare feet),  Louis decided to make way for the toilets before going to look for his sister to tell her that he was calling it a night.

Since the parties had begun being thrown for him, Louis had always left before the stroke of midnight. At first, it had been because he was too young and Alfred, being his chaperone, had never allowed him to stay as late. When he was in his somewhat advanced teen years, he left early because there had always been a beautiful girl (or a handsome young boy, but this happened once only) who was itching to be taken back to his huge house. But last year, during his twenty-first birthday, he simply went home early because he wanted to; because he wanted to be alone and enjoy the silence of his own room. Tonight seemed like a repeat of that, and he was actually looking forward to it.

As he was nearing the door to the toilets, Harry exited, padding and straightening his suit jacket. Louis found his feet pick up speed and his voice echoed in the empty hall, "Harry!"

"Hi, Master Louis," Harry greeted with a smile, his face all bright and pink. Louis can tell that the boy's had a bit of fun with some alcohol after he had left them at the table.

"You all right?"

Harry nodded, his hair bouncing gently.

"Listen, I just wanted to apologize. I didn't--well, I didn't mean to make you upset, Harry. I was just taking the piss, yeah?"

Harry buried his face in his hands and groaned. "Oh my gosh. I am so sorry, Master Louis. I was just so...I don't know. I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry about," Louis said as he shook his head and lessened the gap between them. He didn't know what to do, if he was being honest. He never needed to console any of the servants like this before. In fact, the only other estate workers he was comfortable to touch other than Eleanor were Liam and Niall, but they never broke down or folded up in front of him as Harry's taken to doing.

Harry was so fragile, he decided. And perhaps, it should not really be surprising. He's had a very hard life after all.

Louis reached for Harry's hands, gently pulling them away from his face. "Come now," he said soothingly. "We're good, yeah?"

A shy smile appeared on Harry's lips as they stared at each other, faces so close that they were breathing the same air. The curly one gave a curt nod, and Louis felt warm all over at the sight--the feel--of Harry.

But the moment quickly dissipated when an all-too-familiar voice came bouncing off the walls.

"Louis?"

His heart thundered against his chest. He felt dreadful and excited at the same time. His fingers involuntarily tightened around Harry's. Two years lost, but the sound of his name spoken in that thick Northern England accent still made him lose himself.  And he didn't have to turn to see who it was, he knew--he'll always know, whether it be in a crowded room or in a silent hallway. Louis will never forget. The sound is embedded in his heart. In the very core of his soul.

But, turn, he did. And he instantly felt the moisture building in his eyes. Here was the beautiful man that was once his, still beautiful but he can no longer call his own. 

"Zayn."


	6. Chapter 6

"Am I interrupting?" Zayn asked as he slowly made his way to Louis and Harry, a brow cocked, flicking his eyes to where their hands were adjoined. For all intents and purposes, he was inquiring, but Louis can hear what was unsaid:  _I don't care if I'm interrupting. I want you to turn your attention to me._

Louis let go of Harry's hands ungently (although to be fair, he didn't really notice; he was numb from anything that was not Zayn). "Harry, would you do me a favor and please tell Lottie that I shall be on my way home, and if she wishes to stay, then I'll have Paul come back for you both."

Harry nodded. "Yes, of course, Master Louis." He spoke softly, as if he knew better than to make the stranger hear. Louis nudged him to go on his way, and being the obedient boy that he was, Harry turned swiftly and walked away.

"Master?" Smugness was thick in the way Zayn had said it, almost mocking even.

When Louis turned to him, he was met with a smirk. That annoyingly lovely smirk that always made his eyes roll and drew his lips in to kiss it off that smug face. He did the first part, but he can no longer do the second part unfortunately.  _Wait, what? No, not unfortunately. I don't care._

"He's Lottie's plus one this year, then?" Zayn stopped some two feet away from him, far enough to make it comfortable but close enough for Louis to smell his cologne. It was different now--stronger, muskier, manlier--but still similar in a way that made Louis' knees go weak.

"Mr. Malik." As cold a greeting as Louis could manage. And that was what finally wiped that smirked off the other's face. "I believe this is a private party."

"I was invited, Louis," Zayn said softly, timidly, as if all the bravado had rolled off of him that easily.

"And who, might I ask, would have you here? Unless we have business to attend to, I don't see why--"

"Yes."

Louis' face twisted to a skeptical scowl. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Your construction company won the bidding for the new townhall at New Ritz, right?"

"And? What of it to you?"

Zayn smiled then. Friendly, warm, the old smile he offered Louis to let him know that he was there, that he cared for him, that he won't leave him. Louis could practically hear the large crack that that smile created just now in the protection he's worked so hard to wrap around his heart.

"I designed the building. I'm your architect."

_Well, that's just perfect, isn't it?_

Louis shook his head. "Your not mine. You're the prov--"

"I could be."

_God!_  Louis wanted to punch him. He ended up sighing heavily instead. "Don't...even. Look, I have to go. Enjoy the rest of the party, okay?"

He turned to leave, to go off to the direction where Harry had scuttled earlier, his trip to the loo already forgotten. But, of course, Zayn wouldn't let him. Because he's a manipulative bastard and he knew how to make Louis stay, how to make Louis listen. 

The firm grip on Louis' arm instantly had his bones turn to jelly, and his resolve was gone again.  _This isn't fucking fair!_

"Louis, please, just."

"What?" he hissed. "What do you want from me?"

Zayn stepped closer, too close for Louis' liking. "It's your birthday. I wanted to greet you a happy birthday."

"Okay, you did. Thank you. Please let go of my arm."

And it's just like Zayn to do the exact opposite of his request. Not only did he not let go, but he even circled his free hand around Louis's waist, his palm flat on the dip just above Louis' bum. He didn't pull Louis in--he rarely does that actually--instead, he stepped closer, completely filling the space between them. And Louis remembered it as soon as their padded chests touched, how easy, how perfect their bodies fit together, how perfect  _they_  fit together.

There was no way to hold back the flood of tears now. And really, the only thing he could do was to hold on tight.

"This is not fair, Zayn," Louis sobbed against his shoulder, burying himself in his scent.

The reply came in the form of a whisper. "I missed you so fucking much, Louis. I know it's my own fault and I'm so, so sorry."

Tears flowed from his eyes in torrents, ruining the darker man's expensive suit; but he couldn't care less because he was overwhelmed with so much emotion that ranged from glee to anger. 

Zayn let Louis cry, holding him and petting his hairspray-stiff hair, whispering a chant of  _I'm sorrys_  and  _I miss yous_. And Louis' surroundings blurred; there was only Zayn's voice, there was only him and Zayn. Him and Zayn again. As it should have always been.

"I have a flat in the city," Zayn began. "Come with me. We'll talk. And I'll show you how much I have missed you, babe."

No, Louis said in his head. He knew he shouldn't. But he wanted to. Dear Lord, did he want to!

He shook his head and began to pull away. "No, I need...I have to get home."

The hand that Zayn had on Louis' arm slid up to cup his cheek, the one on his back pressed him tighter against the other's body. Quietly, Zayn began to nip at his lips gently, carefully; giving him kitten licks, asking permission for his mouth to welcome him.

"Zayn--"

"I never stopped thinking about you," Zayn mumbled against his lips.

Finally, and with all the strength he could muster at the moment, Louis pressed both palms against Zayn's chest and pushed him weakly away. "You have no right," he whispered. He meant it to be scathing, but he was just too worn out to be angry.

Perhaps Zayn heard the the resigned pain in Louis' voice because he loosened his hold and allowed him to pull away.

Louis wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his coat, like a child would after a good wail. "U-under...under normal circumstances, I would...I would shake y-your hand a-and wish us both p-prosperity in our new business v-venture." He sniffed loudly.

"Louis, please don't..."

"I a-apologize for my appearance right n-now, Mr. Malik."

"Louis, please..." Zayn reached for him but was instantly swatted away.

"I assure you that our next...our next...meeting would be m-more pleasant and p-professional." He turned then and practically sprinted away.

And Zayn let him go.

\---

It was almost dawn when he stirred awake. He shuddered when the wind blew in, then pulled the duvet over his bare shoulder. He blinked open the eye that was not planted against the pillow and saw the opened window. It wasn't unusual. He often liked having the window open in the early mornings of September, when the hot rays of the sun are slowly being replaced by the cool air of autumn. Normally, a warm body was pressed against his own. But today, he realized that he was waking up alone.

Louis turned over, grasping the sheets on the empty side of the bed. "Zayn," he croaked. No answer. He hadn't thought anything about it then, of course, and fell right back to sleep.

When the sun was streaming brightly outside, Louis awoke again to find himself still alone in the bed. This time he forced himself up and called his name again. The silence that replied was ominous.

He turned to the table on  _Zayn's_   _side_  of the bed. The watch and the mobile phone that was usually sat beside the lamp was missing. Weird, but nothing suspicious to Louis.  _Perhaps Zayn stepped out for a little while._ He checked his own mobile but found no messages from Zayn. 

It was nearing ten, after he's had breakfast at the dining hall, when he finally decided to call Zayn's mobile, but was answered by a machine that said that the number he was dialing was currently not available. He called again and received the same response. Louis flew to the closet, afraid of what he might find, and what he found indeed scared him.

Zayn's luggage, his clothes, his shoes--all gone.

Louis redialed the number again, more frantic this time, and was met with a similar and increasingly annoying voice recording. He tried and tried as he went back down, calling for Alfred, Mrs. Cole and Eleanor.

The older woman was the first to show herself.

"Where's Zayn?" Louis asked brusquely, as if Mrs. Cole had anything to do with the boy's disappearance.

"Why, he left, Master Louis. Called himself a cab and got picked up." She was careful in her speech, almost questioning, like she had thought that Louis must have known.

His eyes widened, pinpricks starting to build up at the back of eyes. "Wha--Where did he go? What time did he leave?"

"I'm afraid he didn't say where he'd gone off to. It was near daylight when the cab had come for him." She was sporting a confused look, one that Louis gandered was much like his except less panicky. "Is everything all right, young master?"

"No! He's gone--I don't--"

It was then that Eleanor decided to come into the room, casually pulling off the yellow rubber gloves she was wearing. "I'm only half done with scrubbing the front steps and I still have five hundred words left of that essay we have to submit to Mr. Walsh later, so this better be--" Louis' stricken features halted her. "What's wrong?" she inquired, eyes bouncing back and forth between Louis and Mrs. Cole.

"Zayn's gone," he whispered.

Mrs. Cole and Eleanor shared one look before the older lady was taking the rubber gloves from the younger, with an understanding that this was Eleanor's cue to take Louis and just be there for him.

\---

Harry has his head bowed as he made his way back to the ballroom, all warm and giddy; forcing down a grin that wanted so much to break onto his face. Master Louis held his hands. It was absurd to be elated over someone holding his hands. Many people had held his hands for the length of his stay in the Manor--all wonderful and friendly people that he's already considering almost as his own family. But it just somehow feels different when Master Louis had done so.

He saw Miss Lottie and Mister Martin dancing from afar. She was having so much fun that Harry couldn't possibly interrupt them now. So he stood by the nearest wall and moved to the rhythm of the music, gently bobbing his head to the thump of the bass. Harry couldn't dance, he's not had much chance to practice, so he was a little shy in bringing his awkward body onto the dance floor (although he couldn't deny that he very much wanted to and join in with everyone else).

When a waiter passed in front of him offering a glass of sweet bubbly wine, he didn't hesitate to take it and thereafter thank him. Harry's never tasted such good wine--well, he's never tasted much wine, actually--so if he was a bit too pink on the cheeks, surely no one could fault him.

He roamed his eyes all around the room. There were much fewer people now, most of them having left as early as nine. A couple passed him by as they exited through the door he was standing close to.

"Merry Christmas," the man greeted him, and he smiled and greeted back.

Harry checked the time with the watch Miss Lottie had gotten him this morning and, true enough, both hands were pointing up at 12. It's Christmas.

And then all he can think about was Christmas morning. His first Christmas in a very long time that he didn't have to spend at the local shelter for homeless people like him. He knew there would be a Christmas feast at dinner time, where all the servants in the estate shall partake in. Mrs. Cole had tasked him to make dessert for 100 people. It should be overwhelming, but he's more excited than anything else. For one, he's not doing the task alone, he's got five pairs of hands to help him. For another, he's making dessert for people who he considers his family. He sees nothing to be upset about.

Harry's eyes wandered around the room again as he took a sip from the glass in his hand, unaware that he's about to finish his fifth glass of wine for the night. He stopped when he saw the man from earlier. The one with hair as dark as night and eyes that glowed like amber; the one who had come and took away Master Louis' attention from him. Harry didn't think he's seen anyone so gorgeous in his life. The man was just the right shade of tan, his jaw sharp and smooth, his cheeks so very highly prominent. Harry couldn't stop staring.

The man was standing by the wall from across the room, a glass with dark liquid on hand. He was talking to a woman Harry didn't know. She was beautiful too; tight body barely wrapped in a bright red dress, whose neckline was so low Harry thought that if she leered just a little bit forward, her breasts would spill out. 

From where Harry stood, it seemed like they were having a casual enough conversation. But then she was stepping closer to the man, who seemed to find it amusing if the smirk on his face was anything to get by. Her hands disappeared in the man's jacket, and then she was pressing her body against his. She must have whispered something...convincing...because the next thing was the man had placed the glass to the nearest table and tugged the woman away into the darkness. Until Harry could no longer see them.

"Merry Christmas, Harry!"

Miss Lottie hugged him and pulled him down so she could kiss him on the cheek, Mister Martin was right behind her with a look that Harry was not quite sure how to describe. A little bit annoyed perhaps, although Harry was not sure as to why.

"Merry Christmas, Miss Lottie," Harry said in return.

When they let go, Mister Martin extended a handshake to him as they exchanged Christmas greetings.

"Where's Mister Tomlinson?" Miss Lottie giggled and elbowed Mister Martin, and he asked again, "I mean, where's Louis?"

"He's told me awhile ago that he was to go home," Harry answered.

"Oh." Lottie's face fell slightly. "I didn't even get to say goodnight."

"You can always text him, love," Mister Martin suggested, stroking her cheek.

"Yeah," she agreed, smiling up at the boy.

After a heartbeat, Mister Martin turned to him and instructed, "Well then, Harry, it's time to take Miss Lottie home."

Miss Lottie huffed and rolled her eyes. She was smiling though, so Harry didn't think she was truly upset.

"He's just adamant because his father has called it a night," she pointed. "Personally, I would rather stay a bit more." Ms. Lottie leaned in closer to Harry, cupping a  hand on the side of her mouth. "What with all the responsible ones having already gone and the rest of them adults are quite tipsy already as it is, I bet I could swipe me a beer or two."

Mister Martin's eyes rounded in disapproval. He shook his head furiously. "No. Absolutely not. Lottie, your brother will kill me!"

Harry watched fondly as the young couple bickered--Miss Lottie obviously trying to wind up Mister Martin on purpose. For a moment, envy washed over Harry.

The drive back to the Manor was quiet. Miss Lottie was nodding off to the soothing music playing on the radio. It was half past one in the morning when they finally got home. Miss Lottie planted a soft kiss on his cheek, offered another Christmas greeting, and bid him goodnight, before she pulled herself towards her bedroom.

After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he face planted onto the fluffy pillow on the bed that's been his since he got to the Manor. With the amount of alcohol coursing through his body from all the wine he drank that night, he thought he needed only to close his eyes to drift off, but he couldn't be more awake. He was buzzing from how incredible Master Louis' dinner party went and so very excited for the Christmas dinner tomorrow.

"Tonight," Harry declared loudly in the silence of his room. He grinned at the thought and finally decided to just get a headstart with the desserts. He couldn't seem to get himself to sleep anyway. 

He had his hands up, tying a scarf around his head to keep his curls back, when he pushed open the swinging door to the kitchen with his bum. The kitchen always had a solitary light turned on during night time; the one right above the servants' table. What the kitchen didn't always have during night time was people in it; and even more unusual is to see Master Louis in there, at the servants' table nonetheless.

To say that Harry was surprised when he turned around is an understatement.

"Cheers, Harry," Master Louis said with a small smile on his face, lifting the opened bottle of wine at him. Harry noted that there was no glass on the table.

"Good... Evening, sir," he said, walking slowly towards the young master.

Master Louis cocked an eyebrow. "You think so?" he asked, before proceeding to take a long gulp from the bottle. He then slammed the bottle on the wooden table and looked back at Harry. "Worst evening I've had in two years. Fucking--" He shook his head. "Fucking worst, Harry! Motherfucking worst!"

When Harry got to the table, Master Louis was gripping hard at the bottle and had his head bowed. He was silent, and Harry thought that maybe he dozed off. Harry braved to carefully reach for the bottle, hoping to maybe pry it away from the master's hand. Master Louis was obviously plastered and Harry was afraid that he might do something to injure himself.

Harry froze when Master Louis said, "I hate him."

Master Louis looked up at him and Harry was met with flooded blue eyes, a beautiful face stained with tears. For some reason Harry couldn't tell, his own eyes began to water too.

"Why did he leave me, Harry?" Master Louis looked at him as though he had the answer, and Harry's heart was hurting so bad to see Master Louis like this. "What did I do wrong? I don't... I never understood what I did wrong."

Harry has absolutely no idea what his master was talking about but he knew that Master Louis didn't deserve to be left by anyone. He's lovely and kind and a saint. He doesn't deserve to be in this much pain. So, he shook his head automatically. "It's not you," Harry said, not being able to hold himself back from kneeling down in front of the master and taking the despairing master's free hand in both of his. "H-he...  _He_  was wrong, sir. He was wrong to leave. You, you did nothing wrong."

At the back of Harry's mind, he knew that he may not be making any sense and that he might have sounded so utterly ridiculous, but he just wanted to reassure Master Louis and those were the words that came spilling out of his mouth.

Master Louis released the bottle from his grip, leaving it solitary on the old wooden table, and brought his hand to cup Harry's face. And Harry, well, he couldn't help it when he leaned into the touch of the young master, whose hands were slightly calloused (like a man's should be, Harry fleetingly thought) but gentle against his own skin. Master Louis continued to cry silently, but the corners of his lips tugged up, and he looked so exhausted--but not any less beautiful.

"You have been so good to me, Harry," he breathed, soft and low as if it were meant to be a secret that even the walls were not allowed to hear. Harry began to shake his head, ready to tell Master Louis that he's got it the other way around, but he was immediately shushed by the Master's thumb against his lips. "I need you to do something for me. Can I trust you to keep it between us, Harry?"

There was no hesitation when Harry nodded. Master Louis' smile grew wider then, and Harry felt a sense of accomplishment. He was so proud of himself. So proud that it was he who had put a smile on the young master's face.

Suddenly, Master Louis was pulling himself up, prying his hands off of Harry. And Harry instinctively scrambled to upright himself as well. When they were both stood in front of each other, Master Louis told him in a steady voice, "send me a glass of ice cold water to my room please." And without another word, he was walking past Harry and out of the kitchen.

Confusion left Harry standing stupidly by the servants' table for all but five seconds, and then he was already there reaching up at the cupboards for a tall glass, which he'd then filled with cold water halfway through and dumped as much ice cubes as would get the water rising just an inch shy of the rim.

Quickly, but carefully so as not to spill the contents of the glass he was holding, he whisked away to the master's bedroom. He knows where it is, but has not once seen the inside of the chambers. When he was stood in front of the door, he made to knock but was abruptly halted when he realized that it was very slightly ajar, and the landing of his knuckle had effectively pushed it to open. "Sir?" he called cautiously.

"Come, Harry. Close the door behind you."

The room was dimly lit when he entered, just enough for him to see the outlines of the furniture from where he stood in the foyer. When he entered, he'd had his head bowed, not wanting to be too intrusive. But when he turned and he had no choice but to look to find where he should place the glass, his eyes were immediately pulled to the large bed situated on the right wall of where the door was.

The large bed was a  _large_  bed. Larger than the queen size he has in the guest bedroom he'd come to know as his own. Larger than any kind of bed he's seen in his entire life. He reckoned some five to seven people could sleep in it comfortably at the same time. And Master Louis' small figure, propped on matching large pillows, legs slightly spread apart, and both palms flat on his stomach, was in the middle of the bed atop the duvet.

"Leave the glass on the dresser there, and come here to me." Master Louis' voice was low and rough and slurred, a result of the wine he'd ingested earlier on.

Harry did as he was told, butterflies swarming madly in his belly. It wasn't anything new. He'd come to accept that the swoop in his stomach whenever he was around Master Louis would be a constant that he will never learn to get over. When he was standing beside the bed, bothering the fingers of his left hand with his right, he asked in a squeak, "Is there anything else I could do for you, Master Louis?"

"Yes, Harry. Need your help." The master's voice was wrecked and almost pleading, like he was unsure, which to Harry was extremely out of place.

And this prompted Harry to say concernedly and in the most honest of tones, "Anything, sir. Please, let me help you."

A soft and fond smile appeared on the master's blushed face. He instructed Harry to walk down to foot of the bed. He did without a second thought, and once he was there, he saw that the master already has a hand on his groin, rubbing himself. A sudden rush of chill ran up Harry's spine as he's come to realize what the master needed.

And it surprises him more than anything because he's not scared in the least bit. He wanted to do this. He wanted to do anything to make Master Louis feel better. Feel wanted. Feel loved. He just wanted to make his master happy.

_His master_. The words seemed to have taken a different turn in his head. At that very moment, they evolved from a mere connotation of respect to a universal truth. And Harry's never felt inclined to be in full and absolute service to anyone in his life. Not to the nuns who ran the orphanage he was brought to; because for all their godliness, they had left him to suffer being bullied by the other children. Not to the few people who was consistent in dropping change in his empty cup every time they'd pass in front of him; because for all their generosity, they never even braved to looked at him. Not even to his parents; because while he loved them, they didn't love him enough to stay alive and make sure he'd be kept safe and cared for.

But Master Louis took him in, clothed him, nursed him back to health, fed him and gave him a roof to call home. Master Louis gave him a family--a rather huge family who, despite the short time he's known them, love him and care for him. It was so much more than he deserved.

"C'mere," Master Louis whispered. 

And, Harry did. He climbed up the huge bed and crawled up, eyes locked on the beautiful and expectant face of his master.

He stopped an inch off Master Louis' slightly parted feet, and was asked, "you know what I need you to do? 

Harry nodded.

A smirk formed on Master Louis' lips. "You know how?"

Harry's eyes fell, then, and he gingerly shook his head.

"'s alright. I'll teach you."

Without much further ado, Master Louis pulled his sleeping joggers down to his thighs, springing his rigid cock free. He told Harry to straddle his knees, to which the latter acquiesced willingly.

"Need you to lick your palm, Harry. Nice and wet, yeah?"

Harry did; his tongue lapping at the calloused skin of his baker hands.

"Yeah, that's good. Now, take me cock in your hand."

Master Louis gasped when Harry grabbed him, painting worry on the servant's face. "S--sorry, sir, I didn't mean to--"

"Ssshh... 's fine, babe." Harry blushed at the pet name. "Just glide your hand slowly up and down."

Harry concentrated on the task. His other hand on the mattress, supporting him as he was bent and hovered above Master Louis' middle. His hand rounded the girth of the master's cock, tugging the foreskin in a slow and steady pace. His eyes widened when clear liquid spilled from the tip.

"Lick it."

Harry's eyes shot up and was met with the master's glassy eyes behind haft-mast lids. His cheeks were ruddy and his chest was rising and falling at above average speed.

"With the tip o' your tongue, Harry."

Harry swallowed thickly before bringing his lips closer to the tip of the master's cock. He dipped ever so gently the point of his tongue to the leaking slit. Master Louis tasted sweet, he thought, surprisingly. He didn't know what his master would taste, but he sure didn't think it would be sweet.

Master Louis moaned. Harry instinctively raised his eyes to look at him--making sure that his tongue didn't part from the head of the master's cock--and saw his chin tilted upward. Spurred on by wonderful sounds Master Louis was making, Harry lapped up the liquid that has continued to flow from his cock.

"S--so good," Master Louis breathed. Harry waited for his master to look at him as he continued to move his hand around the shaft and lick the tip, but he wasn't rewarded with such. Instead, the master told him to "take me in your mouth, babe. Wanna feel your lips around me."

Harry felt himself stir in his pants, the lust-filled voice of his master making him hard in his sleeping trousers. But he knew this wasn't about him, so he didn't miss a beat and did as he was commanded. Harry enveloped the head of Master Louis' cock in the warm folds of his mouth, closing his lips tightly around it. 

He experimentally swirled his tongue and was gifted with beautiful moaning sounds from his master, and a gentle hand grabbing the top of his head, fingertips clawing at the scalp, sending wonderful chills down his spine. Harry moaned and immediately Master Louis did the same.

"F--fuck, Harry, do that again."

Harry did, moaning around his master's thickness. 

Master Louis hummed filthily. "Need you to fucking go lower," he said, brushing the damp on Harry's forehead. Harry lifted his lids to meet his master's eyes. "Slow, yeah?" And, Harry nodded as much as he could.

He was so eager; too eager to pleasure the man laid out underneath him, wanting to take all the sadness he'd seen earlier from his face. He was much too eager; so much so that he'd forgotten instantly the command he was just given, and took Master Louis deeper into his mouth in one swift motion--nudging the swollen head against his uvula--inevitably gagging in the process. He pulled back instantly in a fit of coughing and tear-filled eyes.

Harry heard a low chuckle despite his incessant, not to mention extremely un-sexy, hawking. When he looked up, Master Louis was already right there, inches from his face, a hand reaching out for his warm cheek.

"I said, slow, didn't I?" he whispered, amused and stroking the sharp bone of Harry's cheek with his thumb.

"'m sorry," Harry mumbled, dipping his head in embarrassment.

"It's alright, Harry. Maybe it was too much of me to ask you to--"

"N--no, Master Louis," he interjected. Harry was genuinely frightened that Master Louis would tell him to leave without doing what he was supposed to do... without making sure that Master Louis was contented with him. "I... I want to do this. P--please let me. I'll do... I'll do better."

Master Louis looked wonderstruck. Harry could see how the master saw him--so young, so small and fragile in front of him, begging to be allowed to continue blowing him. And for a moment, Harry thought that the master would deny him; instead, Master Louis cupped his cheek and smiled at him.

"Alright. Just do it slow."

Harry tried again, this time carefully. He heard his master tell him to  _watch the teeth,_  so he tucked his lips under edges of his teeth as he went deeper down Master Louis' length.

"Ahhh... Good boy, Harry. Now, suck on your way up. Keep it slow, love."

Harry obliged. It was a maddening minute of carefully gliding down and slowly sucking up. Master Louis had moaned and groaned the entire time, clutching on the sheets and forcefully pressing his bum down against the mattress.

Suddenly, Master Louis' hand was wrapped around Harry's hand, that was already wrapped around the base of the master's cock. Master Louis guided him wordlessly on how to twist his hand around the girth as he continued to bob slowly up and down over the head.

Harry can hear ragged breathing, shallow and clipped. A small whine. The hand that was around his hand tightened, nails digging into his skin.

"Fuck!" Master Louis exclaimed, and instantly, Harry tasted something salty-bitter on his tongue.

Harry had stopped all movements, concentrating instead on catching the liquid filling his mouth. Master Louis was panting, lost in his own orgasm, not even minding the warm orifice around his manhood. Not minding that there was another human being stuck to him in a very obscene way.

When Master Louis' had his moment to calm down, he looked down at Harry and nudged him off of his cock. Harry was careful not to spill the spunk in his mouth. He's never done anything like it before and had no inkling of the protocol with regard to the product of such act.

Master Louis' lazy smile shot straight to Harry's heart. He looked happy and contented. A complete turn around to how he had found him earlier. Harry was glad. He thought he may have succeeded in his small mission to make his master feel better.

"That was good, Harry. Very good for your first try."

Harry smiled, close mouthed.

"You still have my jizz in your mouth?" Master Louis chuckled. "Go on and spit it out in the bathroom."

Harry crawled off the bed and did as he was told. Once he's cleaned his mouth of the master's come, he stared at himself on the huge mirror over the sink. A smile crept to his lips. He felt like he's never done anything so worthwhile in his life. He was genuinely proud and happy.


End file.
